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38p eitoore JJruitt grtetoatt 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT. Illus- 
trated. 

LETTERS OF A WOMAN HOME- 
STEADER. Illustrated. 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

Boston and New York 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 
By a Woman Homesteader 




I HEARD THE REPORT OF GUNS 



LETTERS ON AN 
ELK HUNT 

By a 

Woman Homesteader 

Elinore Pruitt Stewart 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

($be fiitoer#be pre^ Cambribjje 

1915 






COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY ELINORE PRUITT STEWART 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published September /qij 



SEP 20 1915 



)CI.A410553 



CONTENTS 

I. Connie Willis I 

II. The Start 13 

III. Eden Valley 24 

IV. Crazy Olaf and Others .... 34 
V. Danyul and his Mother ... 57 

VI. Elizabeth's Romance 81 

VII. The Hunt 95 

VIII. The Seventh Man 109 

IX. An Indian Camp 118 

X. The Tooth-Hunters 124 

XI. Buddy and Baby Girl . . . .130 
XII. A Stampede 143 

XIII. Nearing Home 156 

XIV. The Memory-Bed 160 



l5~/g<? 



LETTERS 
ON AN ELK HUNT 

i 

CONNIE WILLIS 

Burnt Fork, Wyo., July 8, 1914. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

Your letter of the 4th just to hand. How 
glad your letters make me ; how glad I am 
to have you to tell little things to. 

I intended to write you as soon as I came 
back from Green River, to tell you of a girl 
I saw there ; but there was a heap to do and 
I kept putting it off. I have described the 
desert so often that I am afraid I will tire 
you, so I will leave that out and tell you that 
we arrived in town rather late. The help at 
the hotel were having their supper in the 
regular dining-room, as all the guests were 
out. They cheerfully left their own meal to 
place ours on the table. 
I 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

One of them interested me especially. She 
was a small person ; I could n't decide whether 
she was a child or a woman. I kept thinking 
her homely, and then when she spoke I for- 
got everything but the music of her voice, — 
it was so restful, so rich and mellow in tone, 
and she seemed so small for such a splen- 
did voice. Somehow I kept expecting her to 
squeak like a mouse, but every word she 
spoke charmed me. Before the meal was 
over it came out that she was the dish-washer. 
All the rest of the help had finished their 
work for the day, but she, of course, had to 
wash what dishes we had been using. 

The rest went their ways ; and as our own 
tardiness had belated her, I offered to help 
her to carry out the dishes. It was the work 
of only a moment to dry them, so I did that. 
She was so small that she had to stand on 
a box in order to be comfortable while she 
washed the cups and plates. 

" The sink and drain-board were made for 
real folks. I have to use this box to stand on, 
2 



CONNIE WILLIS 

or else the water runs back down my sleeves," 
she told me. 

My room was upstairs ; she helped me up 
with the children. She said her name was 
Connie Willis, that she was the only one of 
her " ma's first man's " children ; but ma mar- 
ried again after pa died and there were a lot 
of the second batch. When the mother died 
she left a baby only a few hours old. As Con- 
nie was older than the other children she took 
charge of the household and of the tiny little 
baby. 

I just wish you could have seen her face 
light up when she spoke of little Lennie. 

" Lennie is eight years old now, and she is 
just as smart as the smartest and as pretty as 
a doll. All the Ford children are pretty, and 
smart, too. I am the only homely child ma 
had. It would do you good just to look at 
any of the rest, 'specially Lennie." 

It certainly did me good to listen to Connie, 
— her brave patience was so inspiring. As 
long as I was in town she came every day 

3 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

when her work was finished to talk to me 
about Lennie. For herself she had no ambi- 
tion. Her clothes were clean, but they were 
odds and ends that had served their day for 
other possessors ; her shoes were not mates, 
and one was larger than the other. She said : 
"I thought it was a streak of luck when I 
found the cook always wore out her right 
shoe first and the dining-room girl the left, 
because, you see, I could have their old ones 
and that would save two dollars toward what 
I am saving up for. But it wasn't so very 
lucky after all except for the fun, because the 
cook wears low heels and has a much larger 
foot than the dining-room girl, who wears 
high heels. But I chopped the long heel off 
with the cleaver, and these shoes have saved 
me enough to buy Lennie a pair of patent- 
leather slippers to wear on the Fourth of 
July." 

I thought that a foolish ambition, but suc- 
ceeding conversations made me ashamed of 
the thought. 

4 



CONNIE WILLIS 

I asked her if Lennie's father could n't take 
care of her. 

" Oh," she said, " Pa Ford is a good man. 
He has a good heart, but there's so many 
of them that it is all he can do to rustle what 
must be had. Why," she told me in a burst 
of confidence, " I 've been saving up for a 
tombstone for ma for twelve years, but I have 
to help pa once in a while, and I sometimes 
think I never will get enough money saved. 
It is kind of hard on three dollars a week, 
and then I 'm kind of extravagant at times. 
I have wanted a doll, a beautiful one, all my 
days. Last Christmas I got it — for Lennie. 
And then I like to carry out other folks' 
wishes sometimes. That is what I am fixing 
to do now. Ma always wanted to see me 
dressed up real pretty just once, but we were 
always too poor, and now I 'm too old. But I 
can fix Lennie, and this Fourth of July I am 
going to put all the beauty on her that ma 
would have liked to see on me. They always 
celebrate that day at Manila, Utah, where pa 

5 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

lives. I '11 go out and take the things. Then 
if ma is where she can see, she '11 see one of 
her girls dressed for once." 

"But aren't you mistaken when you say 
you have been saving for your mother's tomb- 
stone for twelve years ? She 's only been dead 
eight." 

"Why no, I'm not. You see, at first it 
was n't a tombstone but a marble-top dresser. 
Ma had always wanted one so badly ; for she 
always thought that housekeeping would be 
so much easier if she had just one pretty 
thing to keep house toward. If I had not 
been so selfish, she could have had the dresser 
before she died. I had fifteen dollars, — 
enough to buy it, — but when I came to look 
in the catalogue to choose one I found that 
for fifteen dollars more I could get a whole 
set. I thought how proud ma would be of a 
new bedstead and wash-stand, so I set in to 
earn that much more. But before I could get 
that saved up ma just got tired of living, wait- 
ing, and doing without. She never caused 
6 



CONNIE WILLIS 

any trouble while she lived, and she died the 
same way. 

" They sent for me to come home from the 
place where I was at work. I had just got 
home, and I was standing by the bed hold- 
ing ma's hand, when she smiled up at me ; 
she handed me Lennie and then turned over 
and sighed so contented. That was all there 
was to it. She was done with hard times. 

" Pa Ford wanted to buy her coffin on 
credit, — to go in debt for it, — but I hated 
for ma to have to go on that way even after 
she was dead ; so I persuaded him to use 
what money he had to buy the coffin, and I 
put in all I had, too. So the coffin she lies 
in is her own. We don't owe for that. Then 
I stayed at home and kept house and cared 
for Lennie until she was four years old. I 
have been washing dishes in this hotel ever 
since." 

That is Connie's story. After she told me, 
I went to the landlady and suggested that we 
help a little with Lennie's finery; but she told 
7 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

me to " keep out." " I doubt if Connie would 
accept any help from us, and if she did, every 
cent we put in would take that much from 
her pleasure. There have not been many 
happy days in her life, but the Fourth of July 
will be one if we keep out." So I kept out. 

I was delighted when Mrs. Pearson invited 
me to accompany her to Manila to witness 
the bucking contest on the Fourth. Manila 
is a pretty little town, situated in Lucerne Val- 
ley. All the houses in town are the homes of 
ranchers, whose farms may be seen from any 
doorstep in Manila. The valley lies between 
a high wall of red sandstone and the " hog- 
back," — that is what the foothills are called. 
The wall of sandstone is many miles in 
length. The valley presents a beautiful pic- 
ture as you go eastward ; at this time of the 
year the alfalfa is so green. Each farm joins 
another. Each has a cabin in which the 
rancher lives while they irrigate and make 
hay. When that is finished they move into 
their houses in "town." Beyond the hogback 
8 



CONNIE WILLIS 

rise huge mountains, rugged canons, and 
noisy mountain streams ; great forests of pine 
help to make up the picture. Looking toward 
the east we could see where mighty Green 
River cuts its way through walls of granite. 
The road lies close up against the sandstone 
and cedar hills and along the canal that car- 
ries the water to all the farms in the valley. I 
enjoyed every moment. It was all so beauti- 
ful, — the red rock, the green fields, the warm 
brown sand of the road and bare places, the 
mighty mountains, the rugged cedars and 
sage-brush spicing the warm air, the blue 
distance and the fleecy clouds. Oh, I wish I 
could paint it for you ! In the foreground 
there should be some cows being driven 
home by a barefooted boy with a gun on his 
shoulder and a limp brown rabbit in his hand. 
But I shall have to leave that to your imagi- 
nation and move on to the Fourth. 

On that day every one turns out ; even 
from the very farthest outlying ranches they 
come, and every one dressed in his best. No 

9 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

matter what privation is suffered all the rest of 
the time, on this day every one is dressed to 
kill. Every one has a little money with which 
to buy gaudy boxes of candy ; every girl has 
a chew of gum. Among the children friend- 
ship is proved by invitations to share lemons. 
They cordially invite each other to "come 
get a suck o' my lemon." I just love to watch 
them. Old and young are alike ; whatever 
may trouble them at other times is forgotten, 
and every one dances, eats candy, sucks 
lemons, laughs, and makes merry on the 
Fourth. 

I did n't care much for their contests. I 
was busy watching the faces. Soon I saw one 
I knew. Connie was making her way toward 
me. I wondered how I could ever have 
thought her plain. Pride lighted every fea- 
ture. She led by the hand the most beautiful 
child I have ever seen. She is a few weeks 
younger than Jerrine 1 but much smaller. She 
had such an elusive beauty that I cannot de- 

1 l The author's daughter, aged eight. 
10 



CONNIE WILLIS 

scribe it. One not acquainted with her story 
might have thought her dress out of taste out 
among the sand dunes and sage-brush in the 
hot sun, but I knew, and I felt the thrill of 
sheer blue silk, dainty patent-leather slippers, 
and big blue hat just loaded with pink rose- 
buds. 

" This is my Lennie," said Connie proudly. 

I saw all the Ford family before I left, — 
the weak-faced, discouraged-looking father 
and the really beautiful girls. Connie was 
neat in a pretty little dress, cheap but becom- 
ing, and her shoes were mates. Lennie was 
the center of family pride. She represented 
all their longings. 

Before I left, Connie whispered to me that 
she would very soon have money enough to 
pay for her mother's tombstone. "Then I will 
have had everything I ever wanted. I guess 
I won't have anything else to live for then ; 
I guess I will have to get to wanting some- 
thing for Lennie." 

On our way home even the mosquito bites 
II 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

did n't annoy me ; I was too full of Connie's 
happiness. All my happiness lacked was your 
presence. If I had had you beside me to share 
the joy and beauty, I could have asked for 
nothing more. I kept saying, "How Mrs. 
Coney would enjoy this ! " All I can do is to 
kind of hash it over for you. I hope you like 
hash. 

With much love to you, 

ELINORE. 



II 

THE START 

In Camp on the Desert, 
August 24, 1914. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

At last we are off. I am powerfully glad. 
I shall have to enjoy this trip for us both. 
You see how greedy I am for new experi- 
ences ! I have never been on a prolonged 
hunt before, so I am looking forward to a 
heap of fun. I hardly know what to do about 
writing, but shall try to write every two days. 
I want you to have as much of this trip as I 
can put on paper, so we will begin at the 
start. 

To begin with we were all to meet at Green 
River, to start the twentieth ; but a professor 
coming from somewhere in the East delayed 
us a day, and also some of the party changed 
their plans ; that reduced our number but not 
our enthusiasm. 

13 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

A few days before we left the ranch I tele- 
phoned Mrs. Louderer and tried to persuade 
her to go along", but she replied, " For why- 
should I go ? Vat ? Iss it to freeze ? I can 
sleep out on some rocks here and with a stick 
I can beat the sage-bush, which will give me 
the smell you will smell of the outside. And 
for the game I can have a beef kill which iss 
better to eat as elk." 

I love Mrs. Louderer dearly, but she is 
absolutely devoid of imagination, and her 
matter-of-factness is mighty trying some- 
times. However, she sent me a bottle of 
goose-grease to ward off colds from the 
" kinder." 

I tried Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, but she was 
plumb aggravating and non-committal, and 
it seemed when we got to Green River that 
I would be the only woman in the party. 
Besides, all the others were strangers to me 
except young Mr. Haynes, who was organiz- 
ing the hunt. Really the prospect didn't 
seem so joyous. 

14 



THE START 

The afternoon before we were to start I 
went with Mr. Stewart and Mr. Haynes to 
meet the train. We were expecting the pro- 
fessor. But the only passenger who got off 
was a slight, gray-eyed girl. She looked 
about her uncertainly for a moment and then 
went into the depot while we returned to 
the hotel. Just as I started up the steps my 
eyes were gladdened by the sight of Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy in her buckboard trotting 
merrily up the street. She waved her hand 
to us and drove up. Clyde took her team to 
the livery barn and she came up to my room 
with me. 

" It 's going with you I am," she began. 
" Ye '11 need somebody to keep yez straight 
and to sew up the holes ye '11 be shooting 
into each other." 

After she had " tidied up a bit" we went 
down to supper. We were all seated at one 
table, and there was yet an empty place ; but 
soon the girl we had seen get of! the train 
came and seated herself in it. 

15 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

" Can any of you tell me how to get to 
Kendall, Wyoming ? " she asked. 

I didn't know nor did Clyde, but Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy knew, so she answered. 
"Kendall is in the forest reserve up north. 
It is two hundred miles from here and half 
of the distance is across desert, but they have 
an automobile route as far as Pinedale ; you 
could get that far on the auto stage. After 
that I suppose you could get some one to 
take you on." 

" Thank you," said the girl. " My name is 
Elizabeth Hull. I am alone in the world, and 
I am not expected at Kendall, so I am obliged 
to ask and to take care of myself." 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy at once mentioned her 
own name and introduced the rest of us. After 
supper Miss Hull and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy had 
a long talk. I was not much surprised when 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy came in to tell me that 
she was going to take the girl along. " Be- 
cause," she said, " Kendall is on our way and 
it 's glad I am to help a lone girl. Did you 
16 



THE START 

notice the freckles of her ? Sure her forbears 
hailed from Killarney." 

So early next morning we were astir. We 
had outfitted in Green River, so the wagons 
were already loaded. I had rather dreaded 
the professor. I had pictured to myself a very 
dignified, bespectacled person, and I men- 
tally stood in awe of his great learning. Im- 
agine my surprise when a boyish, laughing 
young man introduced himself as Professor 
Glenholdt. He was so jolly, so unaffected, 
and so altogether likable, that my fear van- 
ished and I enjoyed the prospect of his com- 
pany. Mr. Haynes and his friend Mr. Struble 
on their wagon led the way, then we followed, 
and after us came Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, and 
Miss Hull brought up the rear, with the pro- 
fessor riding horseback beside first one wagon 
and then another. 

So we set out. There was a great jangling 
and banging, for our tin camp-stoves kept 
the noise going. Neither the children nor I 
can ride under cover on a wagon, we get so 

17 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

sick ; so there we were, perched high up on 
great rolls of bedding and a tent. I reckon 
we looked funny to the " onlookers looking 
on " as we clattered down the street ; but we 
were off and that meant a heap. 

All the morning our way lay up the beau- 
tiful river, past the great red cliffs and through 
tiny green parks, but just before noon the road 
wound itself up on to the mesa, which is really 
the beginning of the desert. We crowded into 
the shadow of the wagons to eat our midday 
meal ; but we could not stop long, because it 
was twenty-eight miles to where we could get 
water for the horses when we should camp 
that night. So we wasted no time. 

Shortly after noon we could see white 
clouds of alkali dust ahead. By and by we 
came up with the dust-raisers. The children 
and I had got into the buckboard with Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy and Miss Hull, so as to ride 
easier and be able to gossip, and we had 
driven ahead of the wagons, so as to avoid 
the stinging dust. 

18 



THE START 

The sun was just scorching when we over- 
took the funniest layout I have seen since 
Cora Belle l drove up to our door the first 
time. In a wobbly old buckboard sat a 
young couple completely engrossed by each 
other. That he was a Westerner we knew by 
his cowboy hat and boots ; that she was an 
Easterner, by her not knowing how to dress for 
the ride across the desert. She wore a foolish 
little chiffon hat which the alkali dust had 
ruined, and all the rest of her clothes matched. 
But over them the enterprising young man 
had raised one of those big old sunshades 
that had lettering on them. It kept wobbling 
about in the socket he had improvised ; one 
minute we could see " Tea " ; then a rut in the 
road would swing "Coffee" around. Their 
sunshade kept revolving about that way, and 
sometimes their heads revolved a little bit, 
too. We could hear a word occasionally and 
knew they were having a great deal of fun 

1 The story of Cora Belle is told in Letters of a Woman 
Homesteader. 

19 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

at our expense; but we were amused our- 
selves, so we did n't care. They would drive 
along slowly until we almost reached them ; 
then they would whip up and raise such a 
dust that we were almost choked. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy determined to drive 
ahead ; so she trotted up alongside, but she 
could not get ahead. The young people were 
giggling. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy does n't like 
to be the joke all the time. Suddenly she 
leaned over toward them and said : " Will 
ye tell me something?" Oh, yes, they would. 
" Then," she said, "which of you are Tea and 
which Coffee?" 

Their answer was to drive up faster and 
stir up a powerful lot of dust. They kept 
pretty well ahead after that, but at sundown 
we came up with them at the well where we 
were to camp. This well had been sunk by 
the county for the convenience of travelers, 
and we were mighty thankful to find it. It 
came out that our young couple were bride 
and groom. They had never seen each other 
20 



THE START 

until the night before, having met through 
a matrimonial paper. They had met in Green 
River and were married that morning, and 
the young husband was taking her away up 
to Pinedale to his ranch. 

They must have been ideally happy, for 
they had forgotten their mess-box, and had 
only a light lunch. They had only their lap- 
robe for bedding. They were in a predica- 
ment; but the girl's chief concern was lest 
" Honey-bug " should let the wolves get her. 
Though it is scorching hot on the desert by 
day, the nights are keenly cool, and I was 
wondering how they would manage with only 
their lap-robe, when Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, 
who cannot hold malice, made a round of the 
camp, getting a blanket here and a coat there, 
until she had enough to make them comfort- 
able. Then she invited them to take their 
meals with us until they could get to where 
they could help themselves. 

I think we all enjoyed camp that night, for 
we were all tired. We were in a shallow little 

21 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

canon, — not a tree, not even a bush except 
sage-brush. Luckily, there was plenty of that, 
so we had roaring fires. We sat around the 
fire talking as the blue shadows faded into 
gray dusk and the big stars came out. The 
newly-weds were, as the bride put it, " so full 
of happiness they had nothing to put it in." 
Certainly their spirits overflowed. They were 
eager to talk of themselves and we did n't 
mind listening. 

They are Mr. and Mrs. Tom Burney. She 
is the oldest of a large family of children and 
has had to "work out ever since she was 
big enough to get a job." The people she 
had worked for rather frowned upon any 
matrimonial ventures, and as no provision 
was made for " help " entertaining company, 
she had never had a " beau." One day she 
got hold of a matrimonial paper and saw 
Mr. Burney' s ad. She answered and they 
corresponded for several months. We were 
just in time to "catch it," as Mr. Haynes — 
who is a confirmed bachelor — disgustedly 
22 



THE START 

remarked. Personally, I am glad ; I like them 
much better than I thought I should when 
they were raising so much dust so unneces- 
sarily, 

I must close this letter, as I see the men 
are about ready to start. The children are 
standing the trip well, except that Robert is 
a little sun-blistered. Did I tell you we left 
Junior with his grandmother ? Even though 
I have the other three, my heart is hungry 
for my " big boy," who is only a baby, too. 
He is such a precious little man. I wish you 
could see him 1 

With a heart very full of love for you, 

E. R. S. 



Ill 

EDEN VALLEY 

In Camp, August 28. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

We are almost across the desert, and I am 
really becoming interested. The difficulties 
some folks work under are enough to make 
many of us ashamed. In the very center of 
the desert is a little settlement called Eden 
Valley. Imagination must have had a heap 
to do with its name, but one thing is certain : 
the serpent will find the crawling rather bad 
if he attempts to enter this Eden, for the sand 
is hot ; the alkali and the cactus are there, so 
it must be a serpentless Eden. The settlers 
have made a long canal and bring their 
water many miles. They say the soil is splen- 
did, and they don't have much stone ; but it 
is such a flat place ! I wonder how they get 
the water to run when they irrigate. 
24 



EDEN VALLEY 

We saw many deserted homes. Hope's 
skeletons they are, with their yawning doors 
and windows like eyeless sockets. Some of 
the houses, which looked as if they were de- 
serted, held families. We camped near one 
such. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and I went up 
to the house to buy some eggs. A hopeless- 
looking woman came to the door. The hot 
winds and the alkali dust had tanned her 
skin and bleached her hair ; both were a 
gray-brown. Her eyes were blue, but were 
so tired-looking that I could hardly see for 
the tears. 

" No," she said, " we ain't got no eggs. 
We ain't got no chickens. You see this 
ground is sandy, and last year the wind 
blowed awful hard and all the grain blowed 
out, so we did n't have no chance to raise 
chickens. We had no feed and no money 
to buy feed, so we had to kill our chickens 
to save their lives. We et 'em. They would 
have starved anyway." 
Then we tried for some vegetables. "Well," 
25 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

she said, " they ain't much to look at ; maybe 
you '11 not want 'em. Our garden ain't much 
this year. Pa has had to work out all the 
time. The kids and me put in some seed — 
all we had — with a hoe. We ain't got no 
horse ; our team died last winter. We did n't 
have much feed and it was shore a hard win- 
ter. We hated to see old Nick and Fanny 
die. They were just like ones of the family. 
We drove 'em clean from Missouri, too. But 
they died, and what hurt me most was, pa 
'lowed it would be a tumble waste not to 
skin 'em. I begged him not to. Land knows 
the pore old things was entitled to their 
hides, they got so little else ; but pa said it 
did n't make no difference to them whether 
they had any hide or not, and that the skins 
would sell for enough to get the kids some 
shoes. And they did. A Jew junk man came 
through and give pa three dollars for the two 
hides, and that paid for a pair each for Johnny 
and Eller. 

"Pa hated as bad as we did to lose our 
26 



EDEN VALLEY 

faithful old friends, and all the winter long we 
grieved, the kids and me. Every time the 
coyotes yelped we knew they were gathering 
to gnaw poor old Nick and Fan's bones. And 
pa, to keep from crying himself when the kids 
and me would be sobbin', would scold us. 
1 My goodness,' he would say, ' the horses are 
dead and they don't know nothin' about cold 
and hunger. They don't know nothin' about 
sore shoulders and hard pulls now, so why 
don't you shut up and let them and me rest 
in peace?' But that was only pa's way of 
hidin' the tears. 

" When spring came the kids and me gath- 
ered all the bones and hair we could find of 
our good old team, and buried 'em where you 
see that green spot. That 's grass. We scooped 
all the trash out of the mangers, and spread it 
over the grave, and the timothy and the red- 
top seed in the trash came up and growed. 
I 'd liked to have put some flowers there, but 
we had no seed." 

She wiped her face on her apron, and gath- 

27 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

ered an armful of cabbage ; it had not headed 
but was the best she had. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy seemed possessed ; she bought stuff she 
knew she would have to throw away, but she 
didn't offer one word of sympathy. I felt 
plumb out of patience with her, for usually 
she can say the most comforting things. 

"Why don't you leave this place? Why 
not go away somewhere else, where it will not 
be so hard to start?" I asked. 

" Oh, 'cause pa's heart is just set on mak- 
ing a go of it here, and we would be just as 
pore anywhere else. We have tried a heap of 
times to start a home, and we ' ve worked hard, 
but we were never so pore before. We have 
been here three years and we can prove up 
soon ; then maybe we can go away and work 
somewhere, enough to get a team anyway. 
Pa has already worked out his water-right, 
— he's got water for all his land paid for, if 
we only had a team to plough with. But we'll 
get it. Pa's been workin' all summer in the 
hay, and he ought to have a little stake saved. 
28 



EDEN VALLEY 

Then the sheep-men will be bringin' in their 
herds soon 's frost comes and pa 'lows to get 
a job herdin'. Anyway, we got to stick. We 
ain't got no way to get away and all we got 
is right here. Every last dollar we had has 
went into improvin' this place. If pore old 
hard-worked pa can stand it, the kids and me 
can. We ain't seen pa for two months, not 
sence hayin' began, but we work all we can 
to shorten the days ; and we sure do miss 
pore old Nick and Fan." 

We gathered up as much of the vegetables 
as we could carry. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy paid, 
and we started homeward, promising to send 
for the rest of the beets and potatoes. On the 
way we met two children, and knew them at 
once for " Johnny and Eller." They had pails, 
and were carrying water from the stream and 
pouring it on the green spot that covered 
Nick and Fan. We promised them each a 
dime if they would bring the vegetables we 
had left. Their little faces shone, and we had 
to hurry all we could to get supper ready 
29 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

before they came ; for we were determined 
they should eat supper with us. 

We told the men before the little tykes 
came. So Mr. Struble let Johnny shoot his gun 
and both youngsters rode Chub and Antifat 
to water. They were bright little folks and 
their outlook upon life is not so flat and color- 
less as their mother's is. A day holds a world 
of chance for them. They were saving their 
money, they told us, "to buy some house 
plants for ma." Johnny had a dollar which a 
sheep-man had given him for taking care of 
a sore-footed dog. Ella had a dime which a 
man had given her for filling his water-bag. 
They both hoped to pull wool off dead sheep 
and make some more money that way. They 
had quite made up their minds about what 
they wanted to get : it must be house plants 
for ma ; but still they both wished they could 
get some little thing for pa. They were not 
pert or forward in any way, but they an- 
swered readily and we all drew them out, 
even the newly-weds. 

30 



EDEN VALLEY 

After supper the men took their guns and 
went out to shoot sage-hens. Johnny went 
with Mr. Haynes and Mr. Struble. Miss Hull 
walked back with Ella, and we sent Mrs. 
Sanders a few cans of fruit. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy and I washed the dishes. We were 
talking of the Sanders family. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy was disgusted with me because I wept. 

" You think it is a soft heart you have, but 
it is only your head that is soft. Of course 
they are having a hard time. What of it ? The 
very root of independence is hard times. 
That 's the way America was founded ; that is 
why it stands so firmly. Hard times is what 
makes sound characters. And them kids are 
getting a new hold on character that was very 
near run to seed in the parents. Johnny will 
be tax-assessor yet, I '11 bet you, and you just 
watch that Eller. It won't surprise me a bit 
to see her county superintendent of schools. 
The parents most likely never would make 
anything ; but having just only a pa and a ma 
and getting the very hard licks them kids are 
31 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

getting now, is what is going to make them 
something more than a pa and a ma." 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy is very wise, but some- 
times she seems absolutely heartless. 

The men didn't bring back much game; 
each had left a share with Mrs. Sanders. 

Next morning we were astir early. We 
pulled out of camp just as the first level rays 
of the sun shot across the desolate, flat coun- 
try. We crossed the flat little stream with its 
soft sandy banks. A willow here and there 
along the bank and the blue, distant moun- 
tains and some lonesome buttes were all there 
was to break the monotony. Yet we saw some 
prosperous-looking places with many hay- 
stacks. I looked back once toward the San- 
ders cabin. The blue smoke was just begin- 
ning to curl upward from the stove pipe. The 
green spot looked vividly green against the 
dim prospect. Poor pa and poor ma ! Even 
if they could be nothing more, I wish at least 
that they need not have given up Nick and 
Fan! 

32 



EDEN VALLEY 

Mr. Haynes told us at breakfast that we 
would camp only one more night on the des- 
ert. I am so glad of that. The newly-weds 
will leave us in two more days. I 'm rather 
sorry; they are much nicer than I thought 
they would be. They have invited us to stay 
with them on our way back. Well, I must stop. 
I wish I could put some of this clean morning 
air inside your apartments. 

With much love, 

E. R. S. 



IV 
CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

In Camp, August 31, 1914. 

Dear Mrs. Coney,— 

We are across the desert, and camped for 
a few days' fishing on a shady, bowery little 
stream. We have had two frosty nights and 
there are trembling golden groves on every 
hand. Four men joined us at Newfork, and 
the bachelors have gone on ; but Mr. Stewart 
wanted to rest the " beasties " and we all 
wanted to fish, so we camped for a day or 
two. 

The twenty-eighth was the warmest day 
we have had, the most disagreeable in every 
way. Not a breath of air stirred except an 
occasional whirlwind, which was hot and 
threw sand and dust over us. We could see 
the heat glimmering, and not a tree nor a 
green spot. The mountains looked no nearer. 

34 



CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

I am afraid we all rather wished we were at 
home. Water was getting very scarce, so the 
men wanted to reach by noon a long, low 
valley they knew of; for sometimes water 
could be found in a buried river-bed there, 
and they hoped to find enough for the horses. 
But a little after noon we came to the spot, 
and only dry, glistening sand met our eyes. 
The men emptied the water-bags for the 
horses ; they all had a little water. We had 
to be saving, so none of us washed our dust- 
grimed faces. 

We were sitting in the scant shadow of the 
wagons eating our dinner when we were 
startled to see a tall, bare-headed man come 
racing down the draw. His clothes and shoes 
were in tatters ; there were great blisters on 
his arms and shoulders where the sun had 
burned him ; his eyes were swollen and red, 
and his lips were cracked and bloody. His 
hair was so white and so dusty that altogether 
he was a pitiful-looking object. He greeted 
us pleasantly, and said that his name was 

35 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

Olaf Swanson and that he was a sheep- 
herder ; that he had seen us and had come 
to ask for a little smoking. By that he meant 
tobacco. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy was eyeing him very 
closely. She asked him when he had eaten. 
That morning, he said. She asked him what 
he had eaten ; he told her cactus balls and a 
little rabbit. I saw her exchange glances with 
Professor Glenholdt, and she left her dinner 
to get out her war-bag. 

She called Olaf aside and gently dressed 
his blisters with listerine ; after she had helped 
him to clean his mouth she said to him, 
"Now, Olaf, sit by me and eat; show me 
how much you can eat. Then tell me what 
you mean by saying you are a sheep-herder ; 
don't you think we know there will be no 
sheep on the desert before there is snow to 
make water for them?" 

"I am what I say I am," he said. "I am 
not herding now because sorrow has drove 
me to dig wells. It is sorrow for horses. 

36 



CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

Have you not seen their bones every mile or 
so along this road ? Them 's markers. Every 
pile of bones marks where man's most faithful 
friend has laid down at last : most of 'em died 
in the harness and for want of water. 

"I killed a horse once. I was trying to 
have a good time. I had been out with sheep 
for months and had n't seen any one but my 
pardner. We planned to have a rippin' good 
time when we took the sheep in off the sum- 
mer range and drew our pay. You don't know 
how people-hungry a man gets livin' out. 
So my pardner and me layed out to have one 
spree. We had a neat little bunch of money, 
but when we got to town we felt lost as sheep. 
We did n't know nobody but the bartender. 
We kept taking a drink now and then just so 
as to have him to talk to. Finally, he told 
us there was going to be a dance that night, 
so we asked around and found we could get 
tickets for two dollars each. Sam said he'd 
like to go. We bought tickets. 

" Somehow or another they knew us for 

37 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

sheep-herders, and every once in a while 
somebody would baa-baa at us. We had a 
couple of dances, but after that we could n't 
get a pardner. After midnight things begun 
to get pretty noisy. Sam and me was settin' 
wonderin' if we were havin' a good time, when 
a fellow stepped on Sam's foot and said baa. 
I rose up and was goin' to smash him, but Sam 
collared me and said, ' Let 's get away from 
here, Olaf, before trouble breaks out.' It 
sounded as if every man in the house and 
some of the women were baa-ing. 

" We were pretty near the door when a 
man put his hand to his nose and baa-ed. I 
knocked him down, and before you could bat 
your eye everybody was fightin'. We could n't 
get out, so we backed into a corner; and every 
man my fist hit rested on the floor till some- 
body helped him away. A fellow hit me on the 
head with a chair and I did n't know how I 
finished or got out. 

" The first thing I remember after that was 
feeling the greasewood thorns tearing my 

38 



CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

flesh and my clothes next day. We were away 
out on the desert not far from North Pilot 
butte. Poor Sam could n't speak. I got him 
off poor old Pinto, and took off the saddle for 
a pillow for him. I hung the saddle-blanket 
on a greasewood so as to shade his face ; then 
I got on my own poor horse, poor old Billy, 
and started to hunt help. I rode and rode. I 
was tryin' to find some outfit. When Billy 
lagged I beat him on. You see, I was thinking 
of Sam. After a while the horse staggered, — 
stepped into a badger hole, I thought. But he 
kept staggerin'. I fell off on one side just as 
he pitched forward. He tried and tried to get 
up. I stayed till he died ; then I kept walking. 
I don't know what became of Sam ; I don't 
know what became of me ; but I do know I 
am going to dig wells all over this desert 
until every thirsty horse can have water." 

All the time he had been eating just pickles; 
when he finished his story he ate faster. By 
now we all knew he was demented. The men 
tried to coax him to go on with us so that 

39 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

they could turn him over to the authorities, 
but he said he must be digging. At last it 
was decided to send some one back for him. 
Mr. Struble was unwilling to leave him, but 
the man would not be persuaded. Suddenly 
he gathered up his " smoking " and some food 
and ran back up the draw. We had to go on, 
of course. 

All that afternoon our road lay along the 
buried river. I don't mean dry river. Sand 
had blown into the river until the water was 
buried. Water was only a few feet down, and 
the banks were clearly defined. Sometimes 
we came to a small, dirty puddle, but it was 
so alkaline that nothing could drink it. The 
story we had heard had saddened us all, and 
we were sorry for our horses. Poor little Eliza- 
beth Hull wept. She said the West was so big 
and bare, and she was so alone and so sad, 
she just had to cry. 

About sundown we came to a ranch and 
were made welcome by one Timothy Hobbs, 
owner of the place. The dwelling and the 
40 






CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

stables were a collection of low brown houses, 
made of logs and daubed with mud. Fields 
of shocked grain made a very prosperous- 
looking background. A belled cow led a 
bunch of sleek cattle home over the sand 
dunes. A well in the yard afforded plenty of 
clear, cold water, which was raised by a wind- 
mill. The cattle came and drank at the trough, 
the bell making a pleasant sound in the twi- 
light. 

The men told Mr. Hobbs about the man we 
saw. " Oh, yes," he said, " that is Crazy Olaf. 
He has been that way for twenty years. 
Spends his time digging wells, but he never 
gets any water, and the sand caves in almost 
as fast as he can get it out." Then he launched 
upon a recital of how he got sweet water by 
piping past the alkali strata. I kept hoping he 
would tell how Olaf was kept and who was 
responsible for him, but he never told. 

He invited us to prepare our supper in his 
kitchen, and as it was late and wood was 
scarce, we were glad to accept. He bustled 

41 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

about helping us, adding such dainties as 
fresh milk, butter, and eggs to our menu. He 
is a rather stout little man, with merry gray 
eyes and brown hair beginning to gray. He 
wore a red shirt and blue overalls, and he 
wiped his butcher's knife impartially on the 
legs of his overalls or his towel, — just which- 
ever was handiest as he hurried about cutting 
our bacon and opening cans for us. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and he got on fa- 
mously. After supper, while she and Eliza- 
beth washed the dishes, she asked him why 
he did n't get married and have some one to 
look after him and his cabin. 

" I don't have time," he answered. " I came 
West eighteen years ago to make a start and 
a home for Jennie and me, but I can't find 
time to go back and get her. In the summer 
I have to hustle to make the hay and grain, 
and I have to stay and feed the stock all the 
rest of the time." 

"You write her once in a while, don't 
you?" asked Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. 
42 



CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

" Yes," he said, " I wrote her two years ago 
come April ; then I was so busy I did n't go 
to town till I went for my year's supplies. I 
went to the post office, and sure enough there 
was a letter for me, — been waitin' for me for 
six months. You see the postmaster knows 
me and never would send a letter back. I set 
down there right in the office and answered 
it. I told her how it was, told her I was com- 
ing after her soon as I could find time. You 
see, she refuses to come to me 'cause I am so 
far from the railroad, and she is afraid of In- 
dians and wild animals." 

"Have you got your answer?" asked 
Elizabeth. 

" No," he said, " I ain't had time yet to go, 
but I kind of wish somebody would think to 
bring the mail. Not many people pass here, 
only when the open season takes hunters to 
the mountains. When you people come back 
will you stop and ask for the mail for me ? " 

We promised. 

In the purple and amber light of a new day 

43 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

we were about, and soon were on the road. 
By nightfall we had bidden the desert a glad 
farewell, and had camped on a large stream 
among trees. How glad we were to see so 
much water and such big cottonwoods ! Mr. 
and Mrs. Burney were within a day's drive of 
home, so they left us. This camp is at New- 
fork, and our party has four new members : a 
doctor, a moving-picture man, and two geo- 
logical fellows. They have gone on, but we 
will join them soon. 

Just across the creek from us is the cabin 
of a new settler. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and I 
slept together last night, — only we could n't 
sleep for the continual, whining cry of a sick 
baby at the cabin. So after a while we rose 
and dressed and crossed over to see if we 
could be of any help. We found a woefully 
distressed young couple. Their first child, 
about a year old, was very sick. They did n't 
know what to do for it ; and she was afraid to 
stay alone while he went for help. 

They were powerfully glad to see us, and 

44 



CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

the young father left at once to get Grandma 
Mortimer, a neighborhood godsend such as 
most Western communities have one of. We 
busied ourselves relieving the young mother 
as much as we could. She would n't leave 
the baby and lie down. The child is teething 
and had convulsions. We put it into a hot 
bath and held the convulsions in check until 
Mrs. Mortimer came. She bustled in and took 
hold in a way to insure confidence. She had 
not been there long before she had both par- 
ents in bed, " saving themselves for to-mor- 
row/' and was gently rubbing the hot little 
body of the baby. She kept giving it warm 
tea she had made of herbs, until soon the 
threatening jerks were over, the peevish whin- 
ing ceased, and the child slept peacefully 
on Grandma's lap. I watched her, fascinated. 
There was never a bit of faltering, no inde- 
cision ; everything she did seemed exactly 
what she ought to do. 

" How did you learn it all ? " I asked her. 
" How can you know just what to do, and 
45 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

then have the courage to do it ? I should be 
afraid of doing the wrong thing." 

" Why," she said, " that is easy. Just do 
the very best you can and trust God for the 
rest. After all, it is God who saves the baby, 
not us and not our efforts ; but we can help. 
He lets us do that. Lots of times the good 
we do goes beyond any medicine. Never be 
afraid to help your best. I have been doing 
that for forty years and I am going to keep 
it up till I die." 

Then she told us story after story — told us 
how her different ambitions had "boosted" 
her along, had made her swim when she just 
wanted to float. " I was married when I was 
sixteen, and of course, my first ambition was 
to own a home for Dave. My man was poor. 
He had a horse, and his folks gave him an- 
other. My father gave me a heifer, and mother 
fitted me out with a bed. That was counted 
a pretty good start then, but we would have 
married even if we had n't had one thing. Be- 
ing young we were over-hopeful. We both 

4 6 



CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

took to work like a duck to water. Some 
years it looked as if we were going to see 
every dream come true. Another time and we 
would be poorer than at first. One year the 
hail destroyed everything ; another time the 
flood carried away all we had. 

" When little Dave was eleven years old, 
he had learned to plough. Every one of us 
was working to our limit that year. I ploughed 
and hoed, both, and big Dave really hardly 
took time to sleep. You see, his idea was that 
we must do better by our children than we 
had been done by, and Fanny, our eldest, was 
thirteen. Big Dave thought all girls married 
at sixteen because his mother did, and so did 
I ; so that spring he said, * In just three years 
Fanny will be leaving us and we must do 
right by her. I wanted powerfully bad that 
you should have a blue silk wedding dress, 
mother, but of course it could n't be had, and 
you looked as pretty as a rose in your pink 
lawn. But I 've always wanted you to have a 
blue silk. As you can't have it, let us get it 

47 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

for Fanny ; and of course we must have every- 
thing else according/ And so we worked 
mighty hard. 

" Little Dave begged to be allowed to 
plough. Every other boy in the neighborhood 
did, — some of them younger than he, — but 
somehow I did n't want him to. One of our 
neighbors had been sick a lot that year and 
his crops were about ruined. It was laying-by 
time and we had finished laying by our crops 
— all but about half a day's ploughing in the 
corn. That morning at breakfast, big Dave 
said he would take the horses and go over to 
Henry Boles' s and plough that day to help 
out, — said he could finish ours any time, 
and it did n't matter much if it did n't get 
ploughed. He told the children to lay off that 
day and go fishing and berrying. So he went 
to harness his team, and little Dave went to 
help him. Fanny and I went to milk, and all 
the time I could hear little Dave begging his 
father to let him finish the ploughing. His 
father said he could if I said so. 

4 8 



CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

" I will never forget his eager little face as 
he began on me. He had a heap of freckles ; 
I remember noticing them that morning ; he 
was barefooted, and I remember that one toe 
was skinned. Big Dave was lighting his pipe, 
and till to-day I remember how he looked as 
he held the match to his pipe, drew a puff 
of smoke, and said, ' Say yes, mother.' So I 
said yes, and little Dave ran to open the gate 
for his father. 

" As big Dave rode through the gate, our 
boy caught him by the leg and said, ' I just 
love you, daddy.' Big Dave bent down and 
kissed him, and said, 'You 're a man, son.' 
How proud that made the little fellow ! Par- 
ents should praise their children more ; the 
little things work hard for a few words of 
praise, and many of them never get their 
pay. 

" Well, the little fellow would have no help to 

harness his mule; so Fanny and I went to the 

house, and Fanny said, ' We ought to cook 

an extra good dinner to celebrate Davie's 

49 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

first ploughing. I '11 go down in the pasture 
and gather some blackberries if you will make 
a cobbler.' 

"She was gone all morning. About ten 
o'clock, I took a pail of fresh water down to 
the field. I knew Davie would be thirsty, and 
I was uneasy about him, but he was all right. 
He pushed his ragged old hat back and wiped 
the sweat from his brow just as his father 
would have done. I petted him a little, but 
he was so mannish he did n't want me to pet 
him any more. After he drank, he took up 
his lines again, and said, 'Just watch me, 
mother; see how I can plough.' I told him 
that we were going to have chicken and 
dumplings for dinner, and that he must sit in 
his father's place and help us to berry-cob- 
bler. As he had only a few more rows to 
plough, I went back, telling myself how fool- 
ish I had been to be afraid. 

"Twelve o'clock came, but not Davie. I 
sent Fanny to the spring for the buttermilk 
and waited a while, thinking little Dave had 
50.' 



CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

not finished as soon as he had expected. I 
went to the field. Little Dave lay on his 
face in the furrow. I gathered him up in 
my arms ; he was yet alive ; he put one weak 
little arm around my neck, and said, ' Oh, 
mammy, I'm hurt. The mule kicked me in 
the stomach.' 

"I don't know how I got to the house 
with him ; I stumbled over clods and weeds, 
through the hot sunshine. I sank down on 
the porch in the shade, with the precious 
little form clasped tightly to me. He smiled, 
and tried to speak, but the blood gurgled 
up into his throat and my little boy was 
gone. 

" I would have died of grief if I had n't had 
to work so hard. Big Dave got too warm at 
work that day, and when Fanny went for 
him and told him about little Dave, he ran 
all the way home ; he was crazy with grief 
and forgot the horses. The trouble and the 
heat and the overwork brought on a fever. 
I had no time for tears for three months, and 

51 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

by that time my heart was hardened against 
my Maker. I got deeper in the rut of work, 
but I had given up my ambition for a home 
of my own; all I wanted to do was to work 
so hard that I could not think of the little 
grave on which the leaves were falling. I 
wanted, too, to save enough money to mark 
the precious spot, and then I wanted to leave. 
But first one thing and then another took 
every dollar we made for three years. 

"One morning big Dave looked so worn out 
and pale that I said, ' I am going to get out 
of here ; I am not going to stay here and bury 
you, Dave. Sunrise to-morrow will see us on 
the road West. We have worked for eighteen 
years as hard as we knew how, and have 
given up my boy besides ; and now we can't 
even afford to mark his grave decently. It is 
time we left.' 

" Big Dave went back to bed, and I went 

out and sold what we had. It was so little 

that it did n't take long to sell it. That was 

years ago. We came West. The country was 

52 



CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

really wild then ; there was a great deal of 
lawlessness. We did n't get settled down for 
several years ; we hired to a man who had a 
contract to put up hay for the government, 
and we worked for him for a long time. 

" Indians were thick as fleas on a dog then ; 
some were camped near us once, and among 
them was a Mexican woman who could jab- 
ber a little English. Once, when I was feeling 
particularly resentful and sorrowful, I told her 
about my little Dave ; and it was her jabbered 
words that showed me the way to peace. I 
wept for hours, but peace had come and has 
stayed. Ambition came again, but a different 
kind : I wanted the same peace to come to all 
hearts that came so late to mine, and I wanted 
to help bring it. I took the only course I knew. 
I have gone to others' help every time there 
has been a chance. After Fanny married and 
Dave died, I had an ambition to save up four 
hundred dollars with which to buy an entrance 
into an old ladies' home. Just before I got the 
full amount saved up, I found that young 

53 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

Eddie Carwell wanted to enter the ministry 
and needed help to go to college. I had just 
enough ; so I gave it to him. Another time I 
had almost enough, when Charlie Rucker got 
into trouble over some mortgage business ; so 
I used what I had that time to help him. Now 
I 've given up the old ladies' home idea and 
am saving up for the blue silk dress Dave 
would have liked me to have. I guess I '11 die 
some day and I want it to be buried in. I like 
to think I 'm going to my two Daves then ; 
and it won't be hard, — especially if I have 
the blue silk on." 

Just then a sleepy little bird twittered out- 
side, and the baby stirred a little. The first 
faint light of dawn was just creeping up the 
valley. I rose and said I must get back to 
camp. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and I had both 
wept with Mrs. Mortimer over little Dave. 
We have all given up our first-born little man- 
child ; so we felt near each other. We told 
Mrs. Mortimer that we had passed under the 
rod also. I kissed her toilworn old hands, and 
54 



CRAZY OLAF AND OTHERS 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy dropped a kiss on her 
old gray head as we passed out into the rose- 
and-gold morning. We felt that we were 
leaving a sanctified presence, and we are both 
of us better and humbler women because we 
met a woman who has buried her sorrow be- 
neath faith and endeavor. 

This doesn't seem much like a letter, does 
it? When I started on this trip, I resolved 
that you should have just as much of the 
trip as I could give you. I didn't know we 
would be so long getting to the hunting- 
ground, and I felt you would like to know of 
the people we meet. Perhaps my next letter 
will not be so tame. The hunting season 
opens to-morrow, but we are several days' 
travel from the elk yet. 

Elizabeth behaves queerly. She doesn't 
want to go on, stay here, or go back. I am 
perfectly mystified. So far she has not told 
us a thing, and we don't know to whom she 
is going or anything about it. She is a lik- 
able little lady, and I sincerely hope she 

55 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

knows what she is doing. It is bedtime and I 
must stop writing. We go on to-morrow. 
With affectionate regards, 

Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



V 

DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

In Camp on the Gros Ventre, 
September 6, 1914. 

My dear Friend, — 

I have neglected you for almost a week, 
but when you read this letter and learn why, 
I feel sure you will forgive me. 

To begin with, we bade Mrs. Mortimer 
good-bye, and -started out to find better fish- 
ing than the pretty little stream we were on 
afforded us. Our way lay up Green River 
and we were getting nearer our final camp- 
ground all the time, but we were in no hurry 
to begin hunting, so we were just loitering 
along. There were a great many little lakes 
along the valley, and thousands of duck. Mr. 
Stewart was driving, but as he wanted to 
shoot ducks, I took the lines and drove 
along. There is so much that is beautiful, 
and I was trying so hard to see it all, that I 

57 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

took the wrong road ; but none of us noticed 
it at first, and then we did n't think it worth 
while to turn back. 

The road we were on had lain along the 
foothills, but when I first thought I had 
missed the right road we were coming down 
into a grassy valley. Mr. Stewart came 
across a marshy stretch of meadow and 
climbed up on the wagon. The ground was 
more level, and on every side were marshes 
and pools ; the willows grew higher here so that 
we could n't see far ahead. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy was behind, and she called out, " Say, 
I believe we are off the road." Elizabeth 
said she had noticed a road winding off on 
our right; so we agreed that I must have 
taken the wrong one, but as we could n't 
turn in the willows, we had to go on. Soon 
we reached higher, drier ground and passed 
through a yellow grove of quaking asp. 

A man came along with an axe on his 
shoulder, and Mr. Stewart asked him about 
the road. "Yes," he said, "you are off thf 

58 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

main road, but on a better. You '11 cross the 
same stream you were going- to camp on, 
right at my ranch. It is just a little way 
across here and it 's almost sundown, so I 
will show you the way." 

He strode along ahead. We drove through 
an avenue of great dark pines and across a 
log bridge that spanned a noisy, brawling 
stream. The man opened a set of bars and 
we drove into a big clean corral. Comfort- 
able sheds and stables lined one side, and big 
stacks of hay were conveniently placed. He 
began to help unharness the teams, saying 
that they might just as well run in his 
meadow, as he was through haying; then 
the horses would be safe while we fished. 
He insisted on our stopping in his cabin, 
which we found to be a comfortable two- 
room affair with a veranda the whole length. 
The biggest pines overshadowed the house; 
just behind it was a garden, in which some 
late vegetables were still growing. The air 
was rather frosty and some worried hens 

59 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

were trying hard to cover some chirping 
half-feathered chicks. 

It was such a homey place that we felt 
welcome and perfectly comfortable at once. 
The inside of the house will not be hard to 
describe. It was clean as could be, but with 
a typical bachelor's cleanliness : there was no 
dirt, but a great deal of disorder. Across the 
head of the iron bed was hung a miscellany 
of socks, neckties, and suspenders. A dis- 
couraging assortment of boots, shoes, and 
leggings protruded from beneath the bed. 
Some calendars ornamented the wall, and 
upon a table stood a smoky lamp and some 
tobacco and a smelly pipe. On a rack over 
the door lay a rifle. 

Pretty soon our host came bustling in and 
exclaimed, "The kitchen is more pleasant 
than this room and there 's a fire there, too." 
Then, catching sight of his lamp, he picked 
it up hurriedly and said, "Jest as shore as I 
leave anything undone, that shore somebody 
comes and sees how slouchy I am. Come on 
60 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

into the kitchen where you can warm, and 
I '11 clean this lamp. One of the cows was 
sick this morning; I hurried over things so 
as to doctor her, and I forgot the lamp. I 
smoke and the lamp smokes to keep me 
company." 

The kitchen would have delighted the 
heart of any one. Two great windows, one 
in the east and one in the south, gave plenty 
of sunlight. A shining new range and a fine 
assortment of vessels — which were not all 
yet in their place — were in one corner. 
There was a slow ticking clock up on a high 
shelf; near the door stood a home-made 
washstand with a tin basin, and above it 
hung a long narrow mirror. On the back 
of the door was a towel-rack. The floor was 
made of white pine and was spotlessly clean. 
In the center of the room stood the table, 
with a cover of red oilcloth. Some chairs were 
placed about the table, but our host quickly 
hauled them out for us. He opened his store- 
room and told us to "dish in dirty-face," and 
61 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

help ourselves to anything we wanted, because 
we were to be his " somebody come" for that 
night ; then he hurried out to help with the 
teams again. He was so friendly and so like- 
able that we did n't feel a bit backward about 
" dishin' in," and it was not long before we 
had a smoking supper on the table. 

While we were at supper he said, " I won- 
der, now, if any of you women can make 
aprons and bonnets. I don't mean them dinky 
little things like they make now, but rale 
wearin' things like they used to make." 

I was afraid of another advertisement ro- 
mance and did n't reply, but Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy said, " Indade we can, none better." 

Then he answered, " I want a blue cham- 
bray bonnet and a bunch of aprons made for 
my mother. She is on the way here from 
Pennsylvania. I ain't seen her for fifteen years. 
I left home longer 'n that ago, but I remem- 
ber everything, — just how everything looked, 
— and I'd like to have things inside the 
house as nearly like home as I can, anyway." 
62 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

I did n't know how long we could stop 
there, so I still made no promises, but Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy could easily answer every 
question for a dozen women 

" Have you the cloth ? " she asked. 

Yes, he said ; he had had it for a long time, 
but he had not had it sewn because he had 
not been sure mother could come. 

" What's your name?" asked Mrs. O'- 
Shaughnessy. 

He hesitated a moment, then said, " Daniel 
Holt." 

I wondered why he hesitated, but forgot 
all about it when Clyde said we would stop 
there for a few days, if we wanted to help 
Mr. Holt. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's mind was 
already made up. Elizabeth said she would 
be glad to help, and I was not long in decid- 
ing when Daniel said, " I '11 take it as a rale 
friendly favor if you women could help, be- 
cause mother ain't had what could rightly be 
called a home since I left home. She 's crip- 
pled, too, and I want to do all I can. I know 

63 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

she 'd just like to have some aprons and a 
sunbonnet." 

His eyes had such a pathetic, appealing 
look that I was ashamed, and we at once be- 
gan planning our work. Daniel helped with 
the dishes and as soon as they were done 
brought out his cloth. He had a heap of it, — 
a bolt of checked gingham, enough blue cham- 
bray for half a dozen bonnets, and a great 
many remnants which he said he had bought 
from peddlers from time to time. Mrs. O'- 
Shaughnessy selected what she said we would 
begin on, and dampened it so as to shrink it 
by morning. We then spread our beds and 
made ready for an early start next day. 

Next morning we ate breakfast by the 
light of the lamp that smoked for the sake of 
companionship, and then started to cut out 
our work. Daniel and Mr. Stewart went fish- 
ing, and we packed their lunch so as to have 
them out of the way all day. I undertook the 
making of the bonnet, because I knew how, 
and because I can remember the kind my 

6 4 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

mother wore ; I reckoned Daniel's mother 
would have worn about the same style. Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy and Elizabeth can both cross- 
stitch, so they went out to Daniel's granary 
and ripped up some grain-bags, in order to 
get the thread with which they were sewed, 
to work one apron in cross-stitch. 

But when we were ready to sew we were 
dismayed, for there was no machine. Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy, however, was of the opinion 
that some one in the country must have a 
sewing machine, so she saddled a horse and 
went out, she said, to " beat the brush." 

She was hardly out of sight before a man 
rode up and said there had been a telephone 
message saying that Mrs. Holt had arrived 
in Rock Springs, and was on her way as far 
as Newfork in an automobile. That threw 
Elizabeth and myself into a panic. We posted 
the messenger off on a hunt for Daniel. Eliza- 
beth soon got over her flurry and went at her 
cross-stitching. I hardly knew what to do, 
but acting from force of habit, I reckon, I 

65 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

began cleaning. A powerfully good way to 
reason out things sometimes is to work ; and 
just then I had to work. I began on the store- 
room, which was well lighted and which was 
also used as a pantry. As soon as I began 
straightening up I began to wonder where the 
mother would sleep. By arranging things in 
the storeroom a little differently, I was able 
to make room for a bed and a trunk. I de- 
cided on putting Daniel there ; so then I be- 
gan work in earnest. Elizabeth laid down 
her work and helped me. We tacked white 
cheesecloth over the wall, and although the 
floor was clean, we scrubbed it to freshen it. 
We polished the window until it sparkled. 
We were right in the middle of our work 
when Mrs. O'Shaughnessy came, and Daniel 
with her. 

They were all excitement, but Mrs. O'- 
Shaughnessy is a real general and soon mar- 
shaled her forces. Daniel had to go to New- 
fork after his mother ; that would take three 
days. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy pointed out to 
66 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

him the need of a few pieces of furniture ; so 
he took a wagon and team, which he got a 
neighbor to drive, while he took another team 
and a buggy for his mother. Newfork is a 
day's drive beyond Pinedale, and the neces- 
sary furniture could be had in Pinedale ; so 
the neighbor went along and brought back 
a new bed, a rocker, and some rugs. But of 
course he had to stay overnight. I was for 
keeping right on house-cleaning ; but as 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy had arranged for us all 
to come and sew that afternoon at a near-by 
house, we took our sewing and clambered 
into the buckboard and set out. 

We found Mrs. Bonham a pleasant little 
woman whose husband had earned her pretty 
new machine by chewing tobacco. I reckon 
you think that is a mighty funny method of 
earning anything, but some tobacco has tags 
which are redeemable, and the machine was 
one of the premiums. Mrs. Bonham just 
beamed with pride as she rolled out her ma- 
chine. " I never had a machine before," she 

67 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

explained. "I just went to the neighbors 1 
when I had to sew. So of course I wanted a 
machine awfully bad. So Frank jest chawed 
and chawed, and I saved every tag till we 
got enough, and last year we got the ma- 
chine. Frank is chawin' out a clock now ; but 
that won't take him so long as the machine 
did." 

Well, the " chawed-out " machine did splen- 
didly, and we turned out some good work 
that afternoon. I completed the blue bonnet 
which was to be used as "best," and made 
a "splint" bonnet. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and 
Elizabeth did well on their aprons. We took 
turn about at the machine and not a minute 
was wasted. Mrs. Bonham showed us some 
crochet lace which she said she hoped to sell ; 
and right at once Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's fer- 
tile mind begin to hatch plans. She would 
make Mrs. Holt a " Sunday apron," she said, 
and she bought the lace to trim it with. I 
thought Mrs. Holt must be an old-fashioned 
lady who liked pillow-shams. Mrs. Bonham 
68 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

had a pretty pair she was willing to sell. On 
one was worked, " Good Morning " ; on the 
other, "Good Night" ; it was done with red 
cotton. The shams had a dainty edge of 
homemade lace. Elizabeth would not be out- 
done ; she purchased a star quilt pieced in 
red and white. At sundown we went home. 
We were all tired, but as soon as supper was 
over we went to work again. We took down 
the bed and set it up in Dan's new quarters, 
and we made such headway on what had 
been his bedroom that we knew we could 
finish in a little while next day. 

The next morning, as soon as we had break- 
fasted, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and Elizabeth 
went back to sew, taking with them a lot of 
white cheesecloth for lining for the bedroom 
we were preparing for Mrs. Holt. Mr. Stew- 
art had had fine luck fishing, but he said he 
felt plumb left out with so much bustling about 
and he not helping. He is very handy with 
a saw and hammer, and he contrived what we 
called a "chist of drawers," for Daniel's room. 

6 9 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

The "chist" had only one drawer; into that 
we put all the gloves, ties, handkerchiefs, and 
suspenders, and on the shelves below we put 
his shoes and boots. Then I made a blue cur- 
tain for the " chist " and one for the window, 
and the room looked plumb nice, I can tell 
you. I liked the "chist" so well that I asked 
Mr. Stewart to make something of the kind 
for Mrs. Holt's room. He said there would n't 
be time, but he went to work on it. 

Promptly at noon Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and 
Elizabeth came with the lining for the room. 
We worked like beavers, and had the room 
sweet and ready by mid-afternoon, when the 
man came from Pinedale with the new furni- 
ture. In just a little while we had the room in 
perfect order : the bed nicely made with soft, 
new blankets for sheets ; the pretty star quilt 
on, and the nice, clean pillows protected by 
the shams. They could buy no rugs, but a 
weaver of rag carpets in Pinedale had some 
pieces of carpet which Daniel sent back to us. 
They were really better and greatly more in 
70 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

keeping. We were very proud of the pretty 
white and red room when we were through. 
Only the kitchen was left, but we decided we 
could clean that early next day; so we sat 
down to sew and to plan the next day's din- 
ner. We could hear Mr. Stewart out in the 
barn hammering and sawing on the " chist." 

While we were debating whether to have 
fried chicken or trout for dinner, two little girls, 
both on one horse, rode up. They entered shyly, 
and after carefully explaining to us that they 
had heard that a wagon-load of women were 
buying everything they could see, had run 
Mr. Holt off, and were living in his house, they 
told us they had come to sell us some blueing. 
When they got two dollars' worth sold, the 
blueing company would send them a big doll ; 
so, please, would we buy a lot ? 

We did n't think we could use any blueing, 
but we hated to disappoint the little things. 
We talked along, and presently they told us 
of their mother's flowers. Daniel had told us 
his mother always had a red flower in her 

71 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

kitchen window. When the little girls as- 
sured us their mother had a red geranium in 
bloom, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy set out to get it; 
and about dark she returned with a beautiful 
plant just beginning to bloom. We were all 
as happy as children ; we had all worked very 
hard, too. Mr. Stewart said we deserved no 
sympathy because we cleaned a perfectly clean 
house ; but, anyway, we felt much better for 
having gone over it. 

The "chist" was finished early next morn- 
ing. It would have looked better, perhaps, if 
it had had a little paint, but as we had no paint 
and were short of time, we persuaded our- 
selves it looked beautiful with only its clean, 
pretty curtain. We did n't make many changes 
in the kitchen. All we did was to take down 
the mirror and turn it lengthways above the 
mantel-shelf over the fireplace. We put the 
new rocker in the bright, sunny corner, where 
it would be easier for dim old eyes to see to 
read or sew. We set the geranium on the 
broad clean sill of the window, and I think 
72 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

you would have agreed with us that it was 
a cozy, cheerful home to come to after fifteen 
years of lonely homelessness. We could n't get 
the dinner question settled, so we "dished in 
dirty-face " ; each cooked what she thought 
best. Like Samantha Ann Allen, we had 
u everything good and plenty of it." 

Elizabeth took a real interest and worked 
well. She is the dearest girl and would be a 
precious daughter to some mother. She has 
not yet told us anything about herself. All we 
know is, she taught school somewhere in the 
East. She was a little surprised at the way we 
took possession of a stranger's home, but she 
enjoyed it as much as we. " It is so nice to be 
doing something for some one again, some- 
thing real homey and family-like," she re- 
marked as she laid the table for dinner. 

We had dinner almost ready when we heard 
the wheels crossing the mossy log bridge. We 
raced to let down the bars. Beside Daniel sat 
a dear dumpy little woman, her head very 
much bundled up with a lot of old black 

73 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

veils. Daniel drove through the corral, into 
the yard, and right up to the door. He 
helped her out so gently. She kept admon- 
ishing him, "Careful, Danyul, careful." He 
handed out her crutch and helped her into 
the kitchen, where she sank, panting, into the 
rocker. " It is my leg," she explained ; " it has 
been that way ever since Danyul was a baby." 
Then she pleaded, " Careful, careful," to Eliz- 
abeth, who was tenderly unwrapping her. " I 
would n't have anything happen to this brown 
alapacky for anything ; it is my very best, and 
I 've had it ever since before I went to the pore 
farm ; but I wanted to look nice for Danyul, 
comin' to his home for the first time an' all." 
We had the happiest dinner party I ever 
remember. It would be powerfully hard for 
me to say which was happier, " Danyul " or his 
mother. They just beamed upon each other. 
She was proud of her boy and his pleasant 
home. " Danyul says he 's got a little red 
heifer for me and he 's got ten cows of his own. 
Now ain't that fine? It is a pity we can't have 

74 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

a few apple trees, — a little orchard. We'd 
live like kings, we would that." We explained 
to her how we got our fruit by parcel post, and 
Danyul said he would order his winter supply 
of apples at once. 

As soon as dinner was over, Danyul had to 
mend a fence so as to keep his cattle in their 
own pasture. Mr. Stewart went to help and 
we women were left alone. We improved the 
time well. Mrs. Holt would not lie down and 
rest, as we tried to persuade her to, but hob- 
bled about, admiring everything. She was 
delighted with the big, clean cellar and its 
orderly bins, in which Danyul was beginning 
to store his vegetables. She was as pleased as 
a child with her room, and almost wept when 
we told her which were " welcoming presents n 
from us. She was particularly delighted with 
her red flower, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy will 
be happy for days remembering it was she 
who gave it. I shall be happy longer than 
that remembering how tickled she was with 
her bonnets. 

75 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

She wanted to wipe the dishes, so she and 
I did up the dishes while Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
and Elizabeth put some finishing stitches in on 
their aprons. She sat on the highest seat we 
could find, and as she deftly handled the dishes 
she told us this : — 

" I should think you would wonder why 
Danyul ain't got me out of the porehouse 
before now. I've been there more'n ten 
years, but Danyul did n't know it till a month 
ago, Charlotte Nash wrote him. Neither 
Dan)^ul nor me are any master-hand at writin', 
and then I didn't want him to know anyhow. 
When Danyul got into trouble, I signed over 
the little farm his pa left us, to pay the lawyer 
person to defend him. Danyul had enough 
trouble, so he went to the penitentiary without 
finding out I was homeless. I should think you 
would be put out to know Danyul has been to 
the pen, but he has. He always said to me that 
he never done what he was accused of, so I am 
not going to tell you what it was. Danyul was 
always a good boy, honest and good to me 

7 6 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

and a hard worker. I ain't got no call to doubt 
him when he says he 's innocent. 

" Well, I fought his case the best I could, 
but he got ten years. Then the lawyer per- 
son claimed the home an' all, so I went out 
to work, but bein' crippled I found it hard. 
When Danyul had been gone four years I 
had saved enough to buy my brown alapacky 
and go to see him. He looked pale and sad, 
— afraid even to speak to his own mother. I 
went back to work as broke up as Danyul, 
and that winter I come down with such a long 
spell of sickness that they sent me to the pore 
farm. I always wrote to Danyul on his birth- 
day and I couldn't bear to let him know 
where I was. 

" Soon 's his time was out, he come here ; 
he could n't bear the scorn that he'd get at 
home, so he come out to this big, free West, 
and took the chance it offers. Once he wrote 
and asked me if I would like to live West. 
He said if I did, after he got a start I must 
sell out and come to him. Bless his heart, all 

77 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

that time I was going to my meals just when 
I was told to and eatin' just what I was helped 
to, going to bed and getting up at some one 
else's word ! Oh, it was bitter, but I did n't 
want Danyul to taste it ; so, when I did n't 
come, he thought I didn't want to give up 
the old home, and did n't say no more about 
it. Charlotte was on the pore farm too, until 
her cousin died and she got left a home and 
enough to live on. Sometimes she would 
come out to the farm and take me back with 
her for a little visit. She was good that way. 
I never would tell her about Danyul ; but this 
summer I was helpin' her dry apples and 
somehow she jist coaxed the secret out. She 
wrote to Danyul, and he wrote to me, and 
here I am. Danyul and me are so happy that 
we are goin' to send a ticket back to the farm 
for Maggie Harper. She ain't got no home 
and will be glad to help me and get a rale 
home." 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and Elizabeth debated 
what more was needed to make the kitchen 

78 



DANYUL AND HIS MOTHER 

a bit more homey. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said 
a red cushion for the rocker, and Elizabeth 
said a white cat to lie on the hearth. Mrs. 
Holt said, " Yes, I do need 'em both, — 
only it must be an old stray tabby cat. This 
house is going to be the shelter of the home- 
less." 

Well, I can't tell you any more about the 
Holts because we left next morning. Danyul 
came across the bridge to bid us good-bye. 
He said he could never thank us enough, but 
it is we who should be and are thankful. We 
got a little glow of happiness from their great 
blaze. We are all so glad to know that every- 
thing is secure and bright for the Holts in 
the future. 

That stop is the cause of my missing two 
letters to you, but this letter is as long as half 
a dozen letters should be. You know I never 
could get along with few words. I '11 try to 
do better next time. But I can't imagine how 
I shall get the letters mailed. We are miles 
and miles and miles away in the mountains ; 

79 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

it is two days' ride to a post-office, so maybe 
I will not get letters to you as often as I 
planned. 

Sincerely yours, 
Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



VI 

ELIZABETH'S ROMANCE 

Camp Cloudcrest, 
September 12, 19 14. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

I find I can't write to you as often as I at 
first intended ; but I've a chance to-day, so 
I will not let it pass unused. We are in the 
last camp, right on the hunting ground, in 
the "midst of the fray." We have said good- 
bye to dear Elizabeth, and I must tell you 
about her because she really comes first. 

To begin with, the morning we left the 
Holts, Elizabeth suggested that we three 
women ride in the buckboard, so I seated 
myself on a roll of bedding in the back part 
At first none of us talked ; we just absorbed 
the wonderful green-gold beauty of the morn- 
ing. The sky was clear blue, with a few fleecy 
clouds drifting lazily past. The mountains on 
81 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

one side were crested ; great crags and piles 
of rock crowned them as far as we could see ; 
timber grew only about halfway up. The 
trunks of the quaking aspens shone silvery 
in the early sunlight, and their leaves were 
shimmering gold. And the stately pines kept 
whispering and murmuring ; it almost seemed 
as if they were chiding the quaking aspens 
for being frivolous. On the other side of the 
road lay the river, bordered by willows and 
grassy flats. There were many small lakes, 
and the ducks and geese were noisily enjoy- 
ing themselves among the rushes and water- 
grasses. Beyond the river rose the forest- 
covered mountains, hill upon hill. 

Elizabeth dressed with especial care that 
morning, and very pretty she looked in her 
neat shepherd's plaid suit and natty little 
white canvas hat. Very soon she said, "I 
hope neither of you will misunderstand me 
when I tell you that if my hopes are realized 
I will not ride with you much longer. I never 
saw such a country as the West, — it is so 
82 



ELIZABETH'S ROMANCE 

big and so beautiful, — and I never saw such 
people. You are just like your country ; you 
have fed me, cared for me, and befriended 
me, a stranger, and never asked me a word." 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said, "Tut, tut, 'tis 
nothing at all we've done. 'Tis a comfort 
you 've been, has n't she, Mrs. Stewart ? " 

I could heartily agree ; and Elizabeth went 
on, " The way I have been received and the 
way we all treated Mrs. Holt will be the 
greatest help to me in becoming what I hope 
to become, a real Westerner. I might have 
lived a long time in the West and not have 
understood many things if I had not fallen 
into your hands. Years ago, before I was 
through school, I was to have been married ; 
but I lost my mother just then and was left 
the care of my paralytic father. If I had mar- 
ried then, I should have had to take father 
from his familiar surroundings, because Wal- 
lace came West in the forestry service. I felt 
that it would n't be right. Poor father could n't 
speak, but his eyes told me how grateful he 

83 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

was to stay. We had our little home and fa- 
ther had his pension, and I was able to get 
a small school near us. I could take care of 
father and teach also. We were very com- 
fortably situated, and in time became really 
happy. Although I seldom heard from Wal- 
lace, his letters were well worth waiting for, 
and I knew he was doing well. 

" Eighteen months ago father died, — gently 
went to sleep. I waited six months and then 
wrote to Wallace, but received no reply. I 
have written him three times and have had 
no word. I could bear it no longer and have 
come to see what has become of him. If he 
is dead, may I stay on with one of you and 
perhaps get a school? I want to live here 
always." 

" But, darlint," said Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, 
"supposin' it's married your man is?" 

"Wallace may have changed his mind 
about me, but he would not marry without 
telling me. If he is alive he is honorable." 

Then I asked, "Why didn't you ask about 
84 



ELIZABETH'S ROMANCE 

him at Pinedale or any of these places we have 
passed ? If he is stationed in the Bridges re- 
serve they would be sure to know of him at 
any of these little places." 

" I just did n't have the courage to. I should 
never have told you what I have, only I think 
I owe it to you, and it was easier because of 
the Holts. I am so glad we met them." 

So we drove along, talking together ; we 
each assured the girl of our entire willingness 
to have her as a member of the family. After 
a while I got on to the wagon with Mr. Stew- 
art and told him Elizabeth's story so that he 
could inquire about the man. Soon we came 
to the crossing on Green River. Just beyond the 
ford we could see the game-warden's cabin, 
with the stars and stripes fluttering gayly in 
the fresh morning breeze. We drove into the 
roaring, dashing water, and we held our breath 
until we emerged on the other side. 

Mr. Sorenson is a very capable and consci- 
entious game-warden and a very genial gen- 
tleman. He rode down to meet us, to inspect 

85 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

our license and to tell us about our privileges 
and our duties as good woodsmen. He also 
issues licenses in case hunters have neglected 
to secure them before coming. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy had refused to get a license when we 
did. She said she was not going to hunt ; she 
told us we could give her a small piece of " ilk " 
and that would do ; so we were rather sur- 
prised when she purchased two licenses, one a 
special, which would entitle her to a bull elk. 
As we were starting Mr. Stewart asked the 
game- warden, " Can you tell me if Wallace 
White is still stationed here ? " " Oh, yes," 
Mr. Sorenson said, " Wallace's place is only a 
few miles up the river and can be plainly seen 
from the road." 

We drove on. Happiness had taken a new 
clutch upon my heart. I looked back, expect- 
ing to see Elizabeth all smiles, but if you will 
believe me the foolish girl was sobbing as if 
her heart was broken. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
drew her head down upon her shoulder and 
was trying to quiet her. The road along there 
86 



ELIZABETH'S ROMANCE 

was very rough. Staying on the wagon oc- 
cupied all my attention for a while. Several 
miles were passed when we came in sight of 
a beautiful cabin, half hidden in a grove of 
pines beyond the river. Mr. Stewart said we 
might as well " noon " as soon as we came to 
a good place, and then he would ride across 
and see Mr. White. 

Just as we rounded the hill a horseman 
came toward us. A splendid fellow he was, 
manly strength and grace showing in every 
line. The road was narrow against the hillside 
and he had to ride quite close, so I saw his 
handsome face plainly. As soon as he saw 
Elizabeth he sprang from his saddle and said, 
"'Liz'beth, 'Liz'beth, what you doin' here?" 

She held her hands to him and said, " Oh, 
just riding with friends." Then to Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy she said, "This is my Wal- 
lace." 

Mr. Stewart is the queerest man : instead 
of letting me enjoy the tableau, he solemnly 
drove on, saying he would not want any one 

87 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

gawking at him if he were the happy man. 
Anyway, he could n't urge Chub fast enough 
to prevent my seeing and hearing what I We 
told you. Besides that, I saw that Elizabeth's 
hat was on awry, her hair in disorder, and her 
eyes red. It was disappointing after she had 
been so careful to look nicely. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy came trotting along 
and we stopped for dinner. We had just got 
the coffee boiling when the lovers came up, 
Elizabeth in the saddle, "learning to ride," 
and he walking beside her holding her hand. 
How happy they were ! The rest of us were 
mighty near as foolish as they. They were 
going to start immediately after dinner, on 
horseback, for the county seat, to be married. 
After we had eaten, Elizabeth selected a few 
things from her trunk, and Mr. Stewart and 
Mr. White drove the buckboard across the 
river to leave the trunk in its new home. 
While they were gone we helped Elizabeth to 
dress. All the while Mrs. O'Shaughnessy was 
admonishing her to name her first " girul " 



ELIZABETH'S ROMANCE 

Mary Ellen; "or," she said, "if yer first girul 
happens to be a b'y, it 's Sheridan ye '11 be 
callin' him, which was me name before I was 
married to me man, God rest his soul." 

Dear Elizabeth, she was glad to get away, 
I suspect ! She and her Wallace made a fine 
couple as they rode away in the golden Sep- 
tember afternoon. I believe she is one happy 
bride that the sun shone on, if the omen has 
failed everywhere else. 

Well, we felt powerfully reduced in num- 
bers, but about three o'clock that afternoon we 
came upon Mr. Struble and Mr. Haynes wait- 
ing beside the road for us. They had come to 
pilot us into camp, for there would be no road 
soon. 

Such a way as we came over! Such jolting 
and sliding ! I begged to get of! and walk ; 
but as the whole way was carpeted by straw- 
berry vines and there were late berries to tempt 
me to loiter, I had to stay on the wagon. I 
had no idea a wagon could be got across 
such places. 

8 9 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

Mr. Struble drove for Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, 
and I could hear her imploring all the saints 
to preserve us from instant death. I kept 
shutting my eyes, trying not to see the terri- 
fying places, and opening them again to see 
the beauty spread everywhere, until Mr. Stew- 
art said, " It must make you nervous to ride 
over mountain roads. Don't bat your eyes so 
fast and you '11 see more." So then I stiffened 
my back and kept my eyes open, and I did 
see more. 

It had been decided to go as far as we 
could with the wagons and then set camp ; 
from there the hunters would ride horseback 
as far up as they could and then climb. It was 
almost sundown when we reached camp. All 
the hunters were in, and such a yowling as 
they set up! " Look who 's here ! See who 's 
come ! " they yelled. They went to work set- 
ting up tents and unloading wagons with a 
hearty good-will. 

We are camped just on the edge of the 
pines. Back of us rises a big pine-clad moun- 
90 



ELIZABETH'S ROMANCE 

tain ; our tents are set under some big trees, 
on a small plateau, and right below us is a 
valley in which grass grows knee high and 
little streams come from every way. Trout 
scurry up stream whenever we go near. We 
call the valley Paradise Valley because it is 
the horses' paradise. And as in the early 
morning we can often see clouds rolling 
along the valley, we call our camp Cloud- 
crest. We have a beautiful place : it is well 
sheltered; there is plenty of wood, water, 
and feed ; and, looking eastward down the 
valley, snow-covered, crag-topped mountains 
delight the eye. 

The air is so bracing that we all feel equal 
to anything. Mr. Struble has already killed 
a fine " spike" elk for camp eating. We 
camped in a bunch, and we have camp 
stoves so that in case of rain or snow we can 
stay indoors. Just now we have a huge camp 
fire around which we sit in the evening, tell- 
ing stories, singing, and eating nuts of the 
pinon pine. Then too the whole country is 

91 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

filled with those tiny little strawberries. We 
have to gather all day to get as much as we 
can eat, but they are delicious. Yesterday 
we had pie made of wild currants ; there are 
a powerful lot of them here. There is also a 
little blueberry that the men say is the Rocky 
Mountain huckleberry. The grouse are feed- 
ing on them. Altogether this is one of the 
most delightful places imaginable. The men 
are not very anxious to begin hunting. A 
little delay means cooler weather for the 
meat. It is cool up here, but going back 
across the desert it will be warm for a while 
yet. Still, when they see elk every day it is 
a great temptation to try a shot. 

One of the students told me Professor Glen- 
holdt was here to get the tip-end bone of the 
tail of a brontosaurus. I don't know what 
that is, but if it is a fossil he won't get it, for 
the soil is too deep. The students are jolly, 
likable fellows, but they can talk of nothing 
but strata and formation. I heard one of 
them say he would be glad when some one 
92 



ELIZABETH'S ROMANCE 

killed a bear, as he had heard they were fine 
eating, having strata of fat alternating with 
strata of lean. Mr. Haynes is a quiet fellow, 
just interested in hunting. Mr. Struble is the 
big man of the party ; he is tall and strong 
and we find him very pleasant company. 
Then there is Dr. Teschall ; he is a quiet 
fellow with an unexpected smile. He is so 
reserved that I felt that he was kind of out of 
place among the rest until I caught his cor- 
dial smile. He is so slight that I don't see 
how he will stand the hard climbing, not to 
mention carrying the heavy gun. They are 
using the largest caliber sporting guns, — 
murderous-looking things. That is, all except 
Mr. Harkrudder, the picture man. He looks 
to be about forty years old, but whoops and 
laughs like he was about ten. 

I don't need to tell you of the "good 
mon," do I ? He is just the kind, quiet good 
mon that he has always been since I have 
known him. A young lady from a neighbor- 
ing camp came over and said she had called 
93 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

to see our tout ensemble. Well, I 've given 
you it, they, us, or we. 

We did n't need a guide, as Mr. Haynes 
and Mr. Struble are old-timers. We were to 
have had a cook, but when we reached Pine- 
dale, where we were to have picked him up, 
he told Mr. Haynes he was " too tarn seek in 
de bel," so we had to come without him ; but 
that is really no inconvenience, since we are 
all very good cooks and are all willing to 
help. I don't think I shall be able to tell you 
of any great exploits I make with the gun. 
I fired one that Mr. Stewart carries, and it 
almost kicked my shoulder off. I am mysti- 
fied about Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's license. I 
know she would not shoot one of those big 
guns for a dozen elk; besides that, she is 
very tender-hearted and will never harm any- 
thing herself, although she likes to join our 
hunts. 

I think you must be tired of this letter, so 
I am going to say good-night, my friend. 

E. R. S. 



VII 

THE HUNT 

Camp Cloudcrest, 

October 6, 1914. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

It seems so odd to be writing you and get- 
ting no answers. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy just 
now asked me what I have against you that 
I write you so much. I have n't one thing. I 
told her I owed you more love than I could 
ever pay in a lifetime, and she said writing 
such long letters is a mighty poor way to 
show it. I have been neglecting you shame- 
fully, I think. One of the main reasons I came 
on this hunt was to take the trip for you, and 
to tell you things that you would most enjoy. 
So I will spend this snowy day in writing to 
you. 

On the night of September 30, there was 
the most awful thunderstorm I ever wit- 
nessed, — flash after flash of the most blind- 

95 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

ing lightning, followed by deafening peals of 
thunder ; and as it echoed from mountain to 
mountain the uproar was terrifying. I have 
always loved a storm; the beat of hail and 
rain, and the roar of wind always appeal to 
me ; but there was neither wind nor rain, — 
just flash and roar. Before the echo died away 
among the hills another booming report would 
seem to shiver the atmosphere and set all 
our tinware jangling. We are camped so near 
the great pines that I will confess I was 
powerfully afraid. Had the lightning struck 
one of the big pines there would not have 
been one of us left. I could hear Mrs. O'- 
Shaughnessy murmuring her prayers when 
there was a lull. We had gone to bed, but I 
could n't remain there ; so I sat on the wagon- 
seat with Jerrine beside me. Something struck 
the guy ropes of the tent, and I was so fright- 
ened I was too weak to cry out. I thought 
the big tree must have fallen. In the lulls of 
the storm I could hear the men's voices, high 
and excited. They, too, were up. It seemed 
96 



THE HUNT 

to me that the storm lasted for hours ; but at 
last it moved off up the valley, the flashes 
grew to be a mere glimmer, and the thunder 
mere rumbling. The pines began to moan, 
and soon a little breeze whistled by. So we 
lay down again. Next morning the horses 
could not be found ; the storm had frightened 
them, and they had tried to go home. The 
men had to find them, and as it took most of 
the day, we had to put off our hunt. 

We were up and about next morning in the 
first faint gray light. While the men fed grain 
to the horses and saddled them, we prepared 
a hasty breakfast. We were off before it was 
more than light enough for us to see the 
trail. 

Dawn in the mountains — how I wish I 
could describe it to you ! If I could only 
make you feel the keen, bracing air, the ex- 
hilarating climb ; if I could only paint its 
beauties, what a picture you should have! 
Here the colors are very different from those 
of the desert. I suppose the forest makes it 

97 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

so. The shadows are mellow, like the colors 
in an old picture — greenish amber light and 
a blue-gray sky. Far ahead of us we could 
see the red rim rock of a mountain above 
timber line. The first rays of the sun turned 
the jagged peaks into golden points of a 
crown. In Oklahoma, at that hour of the day, 
the woods would be alive with song-birds, 
even at this season; but here there are no 
song-birds, and only the snapping of twigs, 
as our horses climbed the frosty trail, broke 
the silence. We had been cautioned not to 
talk, but neither Mrs. O'Shaughnessy nor I 
wanted to. Afterwards, when we compared 
notes, we found that we both had the same 
thought : we both felt ashamed to be out to 
deal death to one of the Maker's beautiful 
creatures, and we were planning how we 
might avoid it. 

The sun was well up when we reached the 
little park where we picketed our horses. 
Then came a long, hard climb. It is hard 
climbing at the best, and when there is a big 

9 8 



THE HUNT 

gun to carry, it is very hard. Then too, we 
had to keep up with the men, and we did n't 
find that easy to do. At last we reached the 
top and sat down on some boulders to rest a 
few minutes before we started down to the 
hunting ground, which lay in a cuplike valley 
far below us. 

We could hear the roar of the Gros Ventre 
as it tumbled grumbingly over its rocky bed. 
To our right rose mile after mile of red cliffs. 
As the last of the quaking asp leaves have 
fallen, there were no golden groves. In their 
places stood silvery patches against the red 
background of the cliffs. High overhead a 
triangle of wild geese harrowed the blue sky. 

I was plumb out of breath, but men who 
are most gallant elsewhere are absolutely 
heartless on a hunt. I was scarcely through 
panting before we began to descend. We re- 
ceived instructions as to how we should move 
so as to keep out of range of each other's 
guns ; then Mr. Haynes and myself started 
one way, and Mr. Struble and Mrs. O'Shaugh- 

99 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

nessy the other. We were to meet where the 
valley terminated in a broad pass. We felt 
sure we could get a chance at what elk there 
might be in the valley. We were following 
fresh tracks, and a little of the hunter's en' 
thusiasm seized me. 

We had not followed them far when three 
cows and a "spike" came running out of 
the pines a little ahead of us. Instantly Mr. 
Haynes's gun flew to his shoulder and a 
deafening report jarred our ears. He ran for- 
ward, but I stood still, fascinated by what I 
saw. Our side of the valley was bounded by 
a rim of rock. Over the rim was a sheer wall 
of rock for two hundred feet, to where the 
Gros Ventre was angrily roaring below ; on 
the other side of the stream rose the red cliffs 
with their jagged crags. At the report of the 
gun two huge blocks of stone almost as large 
as a house detached themselves and fell. At 
the same instant one of the quaking asp 
groves began to move slowly. I could n't be- 
lieve my eyes. I shut them a moment, but 
ioo 



THE HUNT 

when I looked the grove was moving faster. 
It slid swiftly, and I could plainly hear the 
rattle of stones falling against stones, until 
with a muffled roar the whole hillside fell into 
the stream. 

Mr. Haynes came running back. "What 
is the matter? Are you hurt? Why didn't 
you shoot ? " he asked. 

I waved my hand weakly toward where 
the great mound of tangled trees and earth 
blocked the water. "Why," he said, "that is 
only a landslide, not an earthquake. You are 
as white as a ghost. Come on up here and 
see my fine elk." 

I sat on a log watching him dress his elk. 
We have found it best not to remove the 
skin, but the elk have to be quartered so as 
to load them on to a horse. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy and Mr. Struble came out of the woods 
just then. They had seen a big bunch of elk 
headed by a splendid bull, but got no shot, and 
the elk went out of the pass. They had heard 
our shot, and came across to see what luck. 

IOI 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

"What iver is the matter with ye?" asked 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. Mr. Haynes told her. 
They had heard the noise, but had thought 
it thunder. Mr. Haynes told me that if I 
would " chirk up " he would give me his elk 
teeth. Though I don't admire them, they are 
considered valuable ; however, his elk was a 
cow, and they don't have as nice teeth as do 
bulls. 

We had lunch, and the men covered the 
elk with pine boughs to keep the camp rob- 
bers from pecking it full of holes. Next day 
the men would come with the horses and 
pack it in to camp. We all felt refreshed ; so 
we started on the trail of those that got away. 

For a while walking was easy and we made 
pretty good time ; then we had a rocky hill 
to get over. We had to use care when we 
got into the timber ; there were marshy places 
which tried us sorely, and windfall so thick 
that we could hardly get through. We were 
obliged to pick our way carefully to avoid 
noise, and we were all together, not having 
102 



THE HUNT 

come to a place where it seemed better to 
separate. We had about resolved to go to 
our horses when we heard a volley of shots. 

"That is somebody bunch-shooting," said 
Mr. Struble. " They are in Brewster Lake 
Park, by the sound. That means that the elk 
will pass here in a short time and we may 
get a shot. The elk will be here long before 
the men, since the men have no horses; so 
let 's hurry and get placed along the only 
place they can get out. We '11 get our limit. 

We hastily secreted ourselves along the 
narrow gorge through which the elk must 
pass. We were all on one side, and Mr. 
Haynes said to me, " Rest your gun on that 
rock and aim at the first rib back of the 
shoulder. If you shoot haphazard you may 
cripple an elk and let it get away to die in 
misery. So make sure when you fire." 

It did n't seem a minute before we heard 
the beat of their hoofs and a queer panting 
noise that I can't describe. First came a beau- 
tiful thing with his head held high ; his great 
103 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

antlers seemed to lie half his length on his 
back ; his eyes were startled, and his shining 
black mane seemed to bristle. I heard the re- 
port of guns, and he tumbled in a confused 
heap. He tried to rise, but others coming 
leaped over him and knocked him down. 
Some more shots, and those behind turned 
and went back the way they had come. 

Mr. Haynes shouted to me, "Shoot, shoot; 
why don't you shoot ! " 

So I fired my Krag, but next I found my- 
self picking myself up and wondering who 
had struck me and for what. I was so dizzy 
I could scarcely move, but I got down to 
where the others were excitedly admiring the 
two dead elk that they said were the victims 
of Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's gun. She was as 
excited and delighted as if she had never de- 
clared she would not kill anything. "Sure, 
it 's many a meal they '11 make for little hun- 
gry mouths," she said. She was rubbing her 
shoulder ruefully. " I don't want to fire any 
more big guns. I thought old Goliar had hit 
104 



THE HUNT 

me a biff with a blackthorn shilaley," she re- 
marked. 

Mr. Haynes turned to me and said, " You 
are a dandy hunter ! you did n't shoot at all 
until after the elk were gone, and the way 
you held your gun it is a wonder it did n't 
knock your head off, instead of just smashing 
your jaw." 

The men worked as fast as they could at 
the elk, and we helped as much as we could, 
but it was dark before we reached camp. Sup- 
per was ready, but I went to bed at once. 
They all thought it was because I was so dis- 
appointed, but it was because I was so stiff 
and sore I could hardly move, and so tired I 
could n't sleep. Next morning my jaw and 
neck were so swollen that I hated any one to 
see me, and my head ached for two days. It 
has been snowing for a long time, but Clyde 
says he will take me hunting when it stops. I 
don't want to go but reckon I will have to, be- 
cause I don't want to come so far and buy a 
license to kill an elk and go back empty- 

105 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

handed, and partly to get a rest from Mr. 
Murry's everlasting accordion. 

Mr. Murry is an old-time acquaintance of 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's. He has a ranch down 
on the river somewhere. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
has not seen him for years, — did n't know he 
lived up here. He had seen the game-warden 
from whom she had procured her license, and 
so hunted up our camp. He is an odd-look- 
ing individual, with sad eyes and a drooping 
mouth which gives his face a most hopeless, 
reproachful expression. His nose, however, 
seems to upset the original plan, for it is 
long and thin and bent slightly to one side. 
His neck is long and his Adam's apple seems 
uncertain as to where it belongs. At supper 
Jerrine watched it as if fascinated until I sent 
her from the table and went out to speak to 
her about gazing. 

"Why, mamma," she said, "I had to look ; 
he has swallowed something that won't go 
either up or down, and I 'm 'fraid he '11 
choke." 

1 06 



THE HUNT 

Although I can't brag about Mr. Murry's 
appearance, I can about his taste, for he ad- 
mires Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. It seems that in 
years gone by he has made attempts to marry 
her. 

As he got up from supper the first night 
he was with us, he said, " Mary Ellen, I have 
a real treat and surprise for you. Just wait a 
few minutes, an' I '11 bet you '11 be happy." 

We took our accustomed places around 
the fire, while Mr. Murry hobbled his cayuse 
and took an odd-looking bundle from his 
saddle. He seated himself and took from the 
bundle — an accordion ! He set it upon his 
knee and began pulling and pushing on it. 
He did what Mr. Struble said was doling a 
doleful tune. Every one took it good-na- 
turedly, but he kept doling the doleful until 
little by little the circle thinned. 

Our tent is as comfortable as can be. Now 
that it is snowing, we sit around the stoves, and 
we should have fine times if Professor Glen- 
holt could have a chance to talk ; but we have 
107 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

to listen to " Run, Nigger, Run " and " The 
Old Gray Hoss Come A-tearin' Out The Wil- 
derness." I '11 sing them to you when I come 
to Denver. 

With much love to you, 

Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



VIII 

THE SEVENTH MAN 

Cloudcrest, October 10, 1914. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

I wonder what you would do if you were 
here. But I reckon I had better not anticipate, 
and so I will begin at the beginning. On the 
morning of the eighth we held a council. 
The physician and the two students had 
gone. All had their limit of elk except Mr. 
Haynes and myself. Our licenses also en- 
titled each of us to a deer, a mountain sheep, 
and a bear. We had plenty of food, but it 
had snowed about a foot and I was begin- 
ning to want to get out while the going was 
good. Two other outfits had gone out. The 
doctor and the students hired them to haul 
out their game. So we decided to stay on a 
week longer. 

That morning Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and I 
109 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

melted snow and washed the clothes. It was 
delightful to have nice soft water, and we en- 
joyed our work ; it was almost noon before 
we thought to begin dinner. I suppose you 
would say lunch, but with us it is dinner. 
None of the men had gone out that day. 

Mr. Harkrudder was busy with his films 
and did n't come with the rest when dinner 
was ready. When he did come, he was ex- 
cited ; he laid a picture on the table and said, 
" Do any of you recognize this?" 

It looked like a flash-light of our camping 
ground. It was a little blurry, but some of the 
objects were quite clear. Our tent was a white 
blotch except for the outlines ; the wagons 
showed plainly. I did n't think much of it as 
a picture, so I paid scant attention. Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy gave it close scrutiny; pres- 
ently she said, " Oh, yis, I see what it is. It 's 
a puzzle picture and ye find the man. Here 
he is, hidin' beyont the pine next the tent." 

" Exactly," said Harkrudder, " but I had 
not expected just this. I am working out 
no 



THE SEVENTH MAN 

some ideas of my own in photography, and 
this picture is one of the experiments I tried 
the night of the storm. The result does n't 
prove my experiment either way. Where 
were you, Stewart, during the storm?" 

" Where should I be ? I bided i' the bed," 
the Stewart said. 

" Well," said Harkrudder, " I know where 
each of the other fellows was, and none of 
them was in this direction. Now who is the 
seventh man?" 

I looked again, and, sure enough, there 
was a man in a crouching position outlined 
against the tent wall. We were all excited, 
for it was ten minutes past one when Hark- 
rudder was out, and we could n't think why 
any one would be prowling about our camp 
at that time of the night. 

As Mr. Stewart and I had planned a long, 
beautiful ride, we set out after dinner, leaving 
the rest yet at the table eating and conjectur- 
ing about the " stranger within our picture." 
I had hoped we would come to ground level 
III 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

enough for a sharp, invigorating canter, but 
our way was too rough. It was a joy to be 
out in the great, silent forest. The snow made 
riding a little venturesome because the horses 
slipped a great deal, but Chub is dependable 
even though he is lazy. Clyde bestrode Mr. 
Haynes's Old Blue. We were headed for the 
cascades on Clear Creek, to see the wonder- 
ful ice-caverns that the flying spray is form- 
ing. 

We had almost reached the cascades and 
were crossing a little bowl-like valley, when 
an elk calf leaped out of the snow and ran a 
few yards. It paused and finally came irreso- 
lutely back toward us. A few steps farther 
we saw great, red splotches on the snow and 
the body of a cow elk. Around it were the 
tracks of the faithful little calf. It would stay 
by its mother until starvation or wild ani- 
mals put an end to its suffering. The cow 
was shot in half a dozen places, none of them 
in a fatal spot ; it had bled to death. " That," 
said Mr. Stewart angrily, "comes o' bunch 
112 



THE SEVENTH MAN 

shooting. The authorities should revoke the 
license of a man found guilty of bunch shoot- 
ing." 

We rode on in silence, each a little sad- 
dened by what we had seen. But this was not 
all. We had begun to descend the mountain 
side to Clear Creek when we came upon the 
beaten trail of a herd of elk. We followed it 
as offering perhaps the safest descent. It did 
n't take us far. Around the spur of the moun- 
tain the herd had stampeded; tracks were 
everywhere. Lying in the trail were a spike 
and an old bull with a broken antler. Chub 
shied, but Old Blue does n't scare, so Mr. 
Stewart rode up quite close. Around the 
heads were tell-tale tracks. We did n't dis- 
mount, but we knew that the two upper teeth 
or tushes were missing and that the hated 
tooth-hunter was at work. The tracks in the 
snow showed there had been two men. An 
adult elk averages five hundred pounds of 
splendid meat ; here before us, therefore, lay 
a thousand pounds of food thrown to waste 

113 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

just to enable a contemptible tooth-hunter to 
obtain four teeth. Tooth-hunting is against 
the law, but this is a case where you must 
catch before hanging. 

Well, we saw the cascades, and after rest- 
ing a little, we started homeward through the 
heavy woods, where we were compelled to 
go more slowly. We had dismounted, and 
were gathering some pifion cones from a 
fallen tree, when, almost without a sound, a 
band of elk came trailing down a little draw 
where a spring trickled. We watched them 
file along, evidently making for lower ground 
on which to bed. Chub snorted, and a large 
cow stopped and looked curiously in our di- 
rection. Those behind passed leisurely around 
her. We knew she had no calf, because she 
was light in color : cows suckling calves are 
of a darker shade. A loud report seemed to 
rend the forest, and the beauty dropped. The 
rest disappeared so suddenly that if the fine 
specimen that lay before me had not been 
proof, it would almost have seemed a dream. 
114 



THE SEVENTH MAN 

I had shot the cow elk my license called 
for. 

We took off the head and removed the 
entrails, then covered our game with pine 
boughs, to which we tied a red bandanna so 
as to make it easy to find next day, when the 
men would come back with a saw to divide 
it down the back and pack it in. There is an 
imposing row of game hanging in the pines 
back of our tent. Supper was ready when we 
got in. Mr. Haynes had been out also and 
was very joyful ; he got his elk this afternoon. 
We can start home day after to-morrow. It 
will take the men all to-morrow to get in the 
game. 

I shall be glad to start. I am getting home- 
sick, and I have not had a letter or even a 
card since I have been here. We are hungry 
for war news, and besides, it is snowing 
again. Our clothes did n't get dry either ; 
they are frozen to the bush we hung them on. 
Perhaps they will be snowed under by morn- 
ing. I can't complain, though, for it is warm 

115 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

and pleasant in our tent. The little camp- 
stove is glowing. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy is 
showing Jerrine how to make pigs of pota- 
toes. Calvin and Robert are asleep. The men 
have all gone to the bachelors' tent to form 
their plans, all save Mr. Murry, who is " sere- 
nading" Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. He is playing 
"Nelly Gray," and somehow I don't want to 
laugh at him as I usually do ; I can only feel 
sorry for him. 

I can hardly write because my heart is 
yearning for my little Junior boy at home on 
the ranch with his grandmother. Dear little 
Mother Stewart, I feel very tender toward 
her. Junior is the pride of her heart. She 
would not allow us to bring him on this trip, 
so she is at the ranch taking care of my 
brown-eyed boy. Every one is so good, so 
kind, and I can do so little to repay. It makes 
me feel very unworthy. You '11 think I have 
the blues, but I have n't. I just feel humble 
and chastened. When Mr. Murry pauses I 
can hear the soft spat, spat of the falling 
116 



THE SEVENTH MAN 

snow on the tent. I will be powerfully glad 
when we set our faces homeward. 

Good-night, dear friend. Angels guard 
you. 

Elinore Stewart. 



IX 

AN INDIAN CAMP 

Cloudcrest, October 13, 1914. 

Dear, dear Mrs. Coney, — 

This is the very last letter you will receive 
dated from this camp. We are leaving a few 
days earlier than we intended and I am pretty 
badly on the fence. I want to laugh, and really 
I can hardly keep back the tears. We are 
leaving sooner than we meant, for rather a 
good reason. We have n't one bite to eat ex- 
cept elk meat. 

After the men had brought into camp the 
elk we killed the other afternoon, they began 
to plan a sheep hunt. As sheep do not stay 
in the woods, the men had to go miles away 
and above timber line. They decided to take 
a pack horse and stay all night. I didn't 
want Mr. Stewart to go because the climbing 
is very dangerous. No accidents have hap- 
118 



AN INDIAN CAMP 

pened this year, but last season a man fell 
from the crags and was killed ; so I tried to 
keep the " good mon" at home. But he would 
not be persuaded. The love of chase has en- 
tered his blood, and it looks to me as if it had 
chased reason plumb out of his head. I know 
exactly how Samantha felt when Josiah would 
go to the " pleasure exertion." The bald spot 
on the Stewart's head does n't seem to remind 
him of years gone by ; he is as joyous as a 
boy. 

It was finally decided to take Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy and the children and myself to a neigh- 
boring camp about two miles away, as we 
did n't like to risk being frightened by a pos- 
sible intruder. Sorenson, the game-warden, 
was in camp to inspect our game on the 12th, 
and he told us he was on the trail of tooth- 
hunters and had routed them out on the night 
of the storm ; but what they could have been 
doing in our camp was as much a mystery 
to him as to us. 

Well, when we were ready to go, Mr. Murry 
119 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

and the Stewart escorted us. It was a cloudy 
afternoon and often great flakes of snow fell 
gently, softly. The snow was already about 
eighteen inches deep, and it made sheep hunt- 
ing slippery and dangerous work. On our 
way we came upon an Indian camp. They 
were all huddled about a tiny fire ; scattered 
about were their wikiups made of sticks and 
pine boughs. The Indians were sullen and 
angry. The game-warden had ordered them 
back to Fort Washakie, where they belonged. 
Their squaws had jerked their elk. You may 
not know what jerked means, so I will ex- 
plain : it means dried, cured. They had all 
they were allowed, but for some reason they 
did n't want to go. Sorenson suspects them 
of being in with the tooth-hunters and he is 
narrowing the circle. 

At the camp where we were to stay, we 
found Mrs. Kavanaugh laid up with a sore 
throat, but she made us welcome. It would 
be a mighty funny camper who would n't. As 
soon as the men from the Kavanaugh camp 

120 



AN INDIAN CAMP 

heard our men's plans, they were eager to go 
along. So it ended in us three women being 
left alone. We said we were not afraid and 
we tried not to feel so, but after dark we all felt 
a little timorous. Mrs. Kavanaugh was afraid 
of the Indians, but I was afraid they would 
bring Clyde back dead from a fall. We were 
camped in an old cabin built by the ranger. 
The Kavanaughs were short of groceries. We 
cooked our big elk steaks on sticks before 
an open fire, and we roasted potatoes in the 
ashes. When our fear wore away, we had a 
fine time. After a while we lay down on fra- 
grant beds of pine. 

We awoke late. The fire was dead upon 
the hearth and outside the snow was piling 
up. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy made a rousing fire 
and managed to jolly us until we had a really 
happy breakfast hour. About three in the 
afternoon all the men came trooping in, cold, 
wet, and hungry. After rilling them with veni- 
son, hot potatoes, and coffee, we started to 
our own camp. The men were rather de- 

121 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

pressed because they had come back empty- 
handed. The Indians were gone and the snow- 
lay thick over the place where their fire had 
been ; they had left in the night. 

When we came to camp, Mr. Struble started 
to build a fire ; but no matches were to be 
had. Next, the men went to feed grain to their 
tired horses, but the oats were gone. Mr. Murry 
sought in vain for his beloved accordion. Mr. 
Harkrudder was furious when he found his 
grinding machine was gone. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy made a dash for the grub-box. It was 
empty. We were dumbfounded. Each of us 
kept searching and researching and knowing 
all the while we would find nothing. Mr. Struble 
is a most cheerful individual, and, as Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy says, "is a mighty good fellow 
even if he z> Dutch." "The Indians have stolen 
us out," he said, "but after all they have left us 
our tents and harness, all our meat, and the 
road home ; so what matter if we are a little 
inconvenienced as to grub ? Haynes may cry 
for sugar, but that won't hurt the rest any. 

122 



AN INDIAN CAMP 

I'll saddle and ride over to Scotty's and get 
enough to last us out." 

We knew the Kavanaughs could not help 
us any, but we grew cheerful in anticipating 
help from Scotty, who was from Green River 
and was camped a few miles away. We 
wanted Mr. Struble to wait until morning, 
but he said no, it would make breakfast late ; 
so he rode off in the dark. At two o'clock this 
morning he came in almost frozen, with two 
small cans of milk and two yeast cakes. As 
soon as it was light enough to see, the men 
were at work loading the game and breaking 
camp. As they are ready now to take down 
this tent, I will have to finish this letter some- 
where else. 



X 

THE TOOTH-HUNTERS 

At Sorenson's Cabin 
on Green River. 

WELL, we 're here, warmed and fed and in 
much better trim bodily and mentally. We 
had mishap after mishap coming. First the 
Hutton horse, being a bronco, had to act up 
when he was hitched up. We had almost more 
game than we could haul, but at last we got 
started, after the bronco had reared and 
pitched as much as he wanted to. There are 
a great many springs, — one every few feet 
in these mountains, — and the snow hid the 
pitfalls and made the ground soft, so that the 
wheels cut in and pulling was hard. Then, 
too, our horses had had nothing to eat for two 
days, the snow being so deep they could n't 
get at the grass, hobbled as they were. 

We had got perhaps a mile from camp 
124 



THE TOOTH-HUNTERS 

when the leading wagon, with four horses 
driven by Mr. Haynes, suddenly stopped. 
The wheels had sunk into the soft banks of a 
small, ditch-like spring branch. Mr. Stewart 
had to stay on our wagon to hold the bronco, 
but all the rest, even Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, 
gathered around and tried to help. They 
hitched on a snap team, but not a trace tight- 
ened. They did n't want to unload the game 
in the snow. The men lifted and pried on the 
wheels. Still the horses would n't budge. 

Mr. Haynes is no disciple of Job, but he 
tried manfully to restrain himself. Turning to 
Glenholdt, who was offering advice, he said, 
" You get out. I know what the trouble is : 
these horses used to belong to a freighter 
and are used to being cussed. It 's the great' 
est nuisance in the world for a man to go out 
where there 's a bunch of women. If these 
women were n't along I 'd make these horses 
get out of there." 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said, " Don't lay your 
poor driving to the women. If you drive 
125 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

by cussin', then cuss. We will stop up our 
ears." 

She threw her apron over her head. I held 
my fingers in Jerrine's ears, and she stopped 
my ears, else I might be able to tell you what 
he said. It was something violent, I know. 
I could tell by the expression of his face. He 
had only been doing it a second when those 
horses walked right out with the wagon as 
nicely as you please. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
said to Mr. Haynes, " It 's a poor cusser you 
are. Sure, it 's no wonder you hesitated to 
begin. If Danny O'Shaughnessy could n't 
have sworn better, I 'd have had to hilp him." 

We got along pretty well after that. Mr. 
Haynes kept some distance ahead ; but occa- 
sionally a bit of " cussin' " came back to us 
and we knew he was using freighter tactics. 

The game-warden lives in a tiny little cabin. 
The door is so low that I had to stoop to get 
in. It was quite dark when we got here last 
night, but Mrs. Sorenson acted as if she 
was glad to see us. I did n't think we could 
126 



THE TOOTH-HUNTERS 

all get in. A row of bunks is built along one 
side of the cabin. A long tarpaulin covers the 
bed, and we all got upon this and sat while 
our hostess prepared our supper. If one of us 
had stirred we would have been in her way ; 
so there we sat as thick as thieves. When 
supper was ready six got off their perch and 
ate ; when they were through, six more were 
made happy. 

Mr. Sorenson had caught the tooth-hunt- 
ers. On the wall hung their deadly guns, with 
silencers on them to muffle the report. He 
showed us the teeth he had found in their 
possession. The warden and his deputy had 
searched the men and their effects and found 
no teeth. He had no evidence against them 
except their unlawful guns, but he knew he 
had the right men. At last he found their 
contract to furnish two hundred pair of teeth. 
It is a trick of such hunters to thrust a knife 
into the meat of the game they have, and so 
to make pockets in which they hide the teeth ; 
but these fellows had no such pockets. They 
127 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

jeered at the warden and threatened to kill 
him, but he kept searching, and presently- 
found the teeth in a pail of lard. He told us 
all about it as we sat, an eager crowd, on his 
bed. A warden takes his life in his hands 
when he goes after such fellows, but Sorenson 
is not afraid to do it. 

The cabin walls are covered with pen-and- 
ink drawings, the work of the warden's gifted 
children, — Vina, the pretty eighteen-year- 
old daughter, and Laurence, the sixteen- 
year-old son. They never had a lesson in 
drawing in their lives, but their pictures por- 
tray Western life exactly. 

The snow is not so deep here as it was 
at camp, but it is too deep for the horses to 
get grass. The men were able to get a little 
grain from the warden; so we will pull out 
in the morning and try to make it to where 
we can get groceries. We are quite close to 
where Elizabeth lives, but we should have to 
cross the river, and it was dark before we 
passed her home. I should like to see her but 
128 



THE TOOTH-HUNTERS 

won't get a chance to. Mrs. Sorenson says 
she is very happy. In all this round of ex- 
posure the kiddies are as well as can be. 
Cold, camping, and elk meat agree with 
them. We are in a tent for the night, and it 
is so cold the ink is freezing, but the kiddies 
are snuggled under their blankets as warm 
as toast. We are to start early in the morn- 
ing. Good-night, dear friend. I am glad I 
can take this trip for you. You 'd freeze. 
Elinore Stewart. 



XI 

BUDDY AND BABY GIRL 

In Camp, October 16, 19 14. 

Dear Mrs. Coney, — 

The day we left the game- warden's was 
damp and lowering. It did n't seem it could 
have one good thing to its credit, but there 
were several things to be thankful for. One 
of them was that you were safe at home in 
your warm, dry apartment. We had hardly 
passed the great Block buttes when the big- 
gest, wettest flakes of snow began to pelt 
into our faces. I really like a storm, and the 
kiddies would have enjoyed the snow; but 
we had to keep the wagon-sheet tied down 
to keep the bedding dry, and the kiddies get 
sick under cover. All the pleasure I might 
have had was taken away by the fact that we 
were 'making a forced drive. We had to go. 
The game-warden had no more than enough 

130 



BUDDY AND BABY GIRL 

food for his family, and no horse feed. Also, 
the snow was almost as deep there as it had 
been higher up, so the horses could not 
graze. 

We made it to Cora that day. Here at last 
was plenty of hay and grain; we restocked 
our mess-boxes and felt better toward the 
world. Next day we came on here to New- 
fork, where we are resting our teams before 
we start across the desert, which begins just 
across the creek we are camped on. 

We have added two to our party. I know 
you will be interested to know how it hap- 
pened, and I can picture the astonishment 
of our neighbors when we reach home, for 
our newcomers are to be members of Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy's family. We had all been 
sorry we could not visit Elizabeth or "Dan- 
yul " and his mother. We felt almost as if we 
were sneaking past them, but we consoled 
ourselves with promises to see the Burneys 
and Grandma Mortimer. Yesterday the chil- 
dren and I were riding with Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
131 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

nessy in the buckboard. We were trotting 
merrily along the lane that leads to Newfork, 
thankful in our hearts to be out of the snow, 
— for there is no snow here. Just ahead of us 
two little boys were riding along on their 
ponies. There was a wire fence on both sides 
of the lane, and almost at the end of the lane 
an old cow had her head between the wires 
and was nibbling the tall dead grass. The 
larger of the two boys said, "That's old Pen- 
dry's cow, and she shan't eat a blade of grass 
off Dad's meadow." 

He rode up to the cow and began beating 
her with his quirt. That frightened the cow, 
and as she jerked her head up, the top wire 
caught her across the top of her neck; she 
jerked and lunged to free herself, and was 
cruelly cut by the barbs on the wire. Then 
he began beating his pony. 

The small boy said, " You 're a coward an* 
a fool, Billy Polk. The cow was n't hurtin' 
nothin', an' you 're just tryin' to show off, 
beatin' that pony." 

132 



BUDDY AND BABY GIRL 

Said the other boy, " Shut up, you beggar, 
or I '11 beat you ; an' I '11 take them breeches 
you got on off you, an' you can go without 
any — they 're mine. My ma give 'em to 
you." 

The little fellow's face was scarlet — as 
much of it as we could see for the freckles — 
and his eyes were blazing as he replied, 
" You ain't man enough. I dare you to strike 
me or to tech my clothes." 

Both boys were riding bareback. The small 
boy slid off his pony's back ; the other rode 
up to him and raised his quirt, but the little 
one seized him by the leg, and in a jiffy they 
were in the road fighting like cats. I asked 
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy to drive on, but she said, 
" If you are in a hurry you can try walkin' ; 
I 'm goin' to referee this scrap." 

It looked for a minute as if the small boy 
would get a severe beating, but by some trick 
he hurled the other headlong into the green, 
slimy water that edged the road ; then, seiz- 
ing the quirt and the opportunity at the same 

133 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

time, he belabored Billy without mercy as 
that individual climbed up the slippery em- 
bankment, blubbering and whipped. Still sob- 
bing, he climbed upon his patient pony, which 
stood waiting, and galloped off down the lane. 
The other pony followed and the little con- 
queror was left afoot. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy was beaming with de- 
light. " Sure, 't was a fine fight, a sight worth 
coming all this way to see. Ah 1 but you 're 
the b'y. 'Tis a dollar I'd be givin' ye, only 
me purse is in me stockin' — " 

" Oh," the boy said quickly, " don't let that 
stop you. I '11 look off another way." 

I don't know if she would have given him 
the money, for just then some men came into 
the lane with some cattle and we had to start. 
The boy got up on the back end of the buck- 
board and we drove on. We could hear our 
wagons rumbling along and knew they would 
soon catch up. 

"Where is your home, b'y?" asked Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy. 

134 



BUDDY AND BABY GIRL 

" Oh, just wherever Aunt Hettie has work," 
he said. " She is at Mr. Tom's now, so I 'm 
there, too, — me and Baby Girl." 

" Where are your folks ? " Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy went on. 

" Ma *s dead, an pa 's gone to Alasky. I 
don't know where my brothers are. Baby 
Girl an' me are with Aunt Het, an' that 's all 
there are of us." He grinned cheerfully in 
spite of the fact that one eye was fast closing 
and he bore numerous bumps and scratches 
on his face and head. 

Just then one of the men with the cattle 
galloped up and shouted, " Hello 1 " It was 
Mr. Burney ! " Where 'd you get that kid ? I 
guess I '11 have to get the sheriff after you for 
kidnapping Bud. And what have you been 
doing to him, anyway ? " 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy entered delightedly 
into a recital of the " mixup," and it turned 
out that Mr. Tom and Mr. Burney were one. 
It was like meeting an old friend ; he seemed 
as pleased as we and insisted on our going 
135 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

up to his ranch ; he said "the missus" would 
feel slighted if we passed her by. So we 
turned into another lane, and presently drew 
up before the ranch house. "The missus' 1 
came dancing out to meet us, and right wel- 
come she made us feel. Mr. Burney went 
back to bring the rest, but they were already 
setting up the tents and had supper almost 
ready. However, we stayed and had supper 
with the Burneys. 

They are powerfully happy and talked 
eagerly of themselves and their prospects. 
" It's just grand to have a home of your own 
and some one to do for. I just love to mend 
for Tommy, but I always hated to mend be- 
fore," said the missus. 

"You bet," Mr. Burney answered, "it is 
sure fine to know there 's somebody at home 
with a pretty pink dress on, waitin* for a fel- 
low when he comes in from a long day in the 
saddle." 

And so they kept up their thoughtless chat- 
ter ; but every word was as a stab to poor Aunt 

136 



BUDDY AND BABY GIRL 

Hettie. She had Baby Girl on her lap and 
was giving the children their supper, but I 
noticed that she ate nothing. It was easy to 
see that she was not strong. Baby Girl is 
four years old and is the fattest little thing. 
She has very dark blue eyes with long, black 
lashes, and the shortest, most turned-up little 
nose. She is so plump and rosy that even the 
faded old blue denim dress could not hide her 
loveliness. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy could not keep her 
eyes off the children. " What is the little 
girl's name ? " she asked. 

" Caroline Agnes Lucia Lavina Ida Eunice," 
was the astonishing reply. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy gasped. " My good- 
ness'' she exclaimed ; "is that all?" 

" Oh, no," Aunt Hettie went on placidly ; 
" you see, her mother could n't call her all the 
names, so she just used the first letters. They 
spell Callie ; so that is what she called her. 
But I don't like the name. I call her Baby 
Girl." 

137 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

I asked her how she ever came to name 
her that way, and she said, " My sister wanted 
a girl, but there were six boys before this little 
one came. Each time she hoped it would be 
a girl, and accordingly selected a name for a 
girl. So there were six names saved up, and 
as there was n't much else to give her, my 
sister gave them all to the baby." 

After supper the Burneys rode down to 
camp with us. We had the same camping 
ground that we had when we came up. The 
cabin across the creek, where we met Grandma 
Mortimer, is silent and deserted ; the young 
couple have moved away with their baby. 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy kept talking about the 
fight, and Mr. Burney gave us the history of 
the children. " Their mother," he began, " has 
been dead about eighteen months. She really 
died with a broken heart. Baby Girl was only 
a few weeks old when the father went to 
Alaska, and I guess he 's dead. He was to 'a' 
been back in three years, and no one has 
ever heard a word from him. His name was 

138 



BUDDY AND BABY GIRL 

Bolton ; he was a good fellow, only he went 
bughouse over the gold fields and just fretted 
till he got away — sold everything for a grub 
stake — left his wife and seven kids almost 
homeless. But they managed some way till 
the mother died. With her last breath she 
asked that the two youngest be kept to- 
gether ; she knew the oldest ones would have 
to be separated. She never did give up look- 
ing for Bolton and she wanted him to have 
the babies. 

"Her sister Hettie has worked around here 
for years ; her and Rob Langley have been 
going to marry ever since I can remember, 
but always there has something cropped up. 
And now that Hettie has got to take care of 
the kids I guess they won't never marry ; she 
won't burden him with them. It is hard for her 
to support them, too. Work is scarce, and she 
can't get it, lots of times, because of the kids." 

The Burneys soon went home and the rest 
of us went to bed, — all except Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
nessy, who was so cranky and snappy that 

139 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

we left her by the fire. It seemed hours after 
when I awoke. She was still sitting by the 
fire ; she was absently marking in the ashes 
with a stick. I happened to be the first one up 
next morning and as I stirred up the fire I 
saw " Baby " written in the ashes. We had 
breakfasted and the men had gone their ways 
when Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said to me, — 

" It is a blessed old soul Mrs. Mortimer is. 
Do you mind any good lesson that she taught 
us in the cabin beyont ? " I did not remem- 
ber. "She said, 'The pangs of motherhood 
make us mothers not only of our own, but 
of every child that needs mothering, — espe- 
cially if our own little children need us no 
longer. Fill their little places with ones who 
do need us.' Them 's her very words, and 
it 's sweet truth it is. Both my Katie and 
Sheridan have been grown and gone these 
many years and my heart has ached for 
childher, and there 's none but Cora Belle. I 
am goin' to get them childher this day. What 
do you think about it ? " 
140 



BUDDY AND BABY GIRL 

I thought so well of it that in about two 
minutes we were harnessing the horses and 
were of! to lay the plan before Hettie in rec- 
ord-breaking time. 

Poor Hettie : she wept quietly while the 
advantages of the scheme were being pointed 
out. She said, " I love the children, dearly, 
but I am not sure I can always feed and 
clothe them ; that has worried me a lot. I am 
almost sure Bolton is dead. I '11 miss the 
little things, but I am glad to know they are 
well provided for. You can take them." 

"Now," said Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, "you 
go on an' marry your man if he is a decent 
sort. Do it right away before something else 
happens. It is an illigant wedding present 
I '11 be sendin' you. You must come to see 
the childher often. What 's the b'y's name ? " 

"We never did name him ; you see we had 
kind of run out of boys' names. We just 
called him Buddy." 

" I can find a name for him," said Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy. " Is there a Joseph in the 
141 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

family?" Hettie said no. "Well, then, he is 
named Joseph Bolton O'Shaughnessy, and 
I '11 have them both baptized as soon as we 
get to Green River." 

So in the morning we start with two new 
members. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy is very happy. 
I am so glad myself that I can hardly express 
myself. We are all happy except Mr. Murry ; 
he has at last given up hopes, and gone. Mr. 
Haynes growls a little about having to travel 
along with a rolling nursery, but he is just 
bluffing. I am longing to see Junior. We 
have not heard one word since we left them, 
and I am so homesick for mother and my 
boy. And you, best of friends, when shall I 
see your beloved face ? To-morrow night we 
shall camp at Ten Trees and we shall be one 
day nearer home. 

With much love, 
Elinore Rupert Stewart. 



XII 

A STAMPEDE 

In Camp on the Desert, 
October 19. 

My dear, dear Friend, — 

It is with a chastened, humble heart that I 
begin this letter; I have stood face to face 
with tragedy and romance, and to me one is 
as touching as the other, but you will know 
better when I tell you what I mean. We all 
bustled about to get started from Newfork. 
Now that we had started, all were homesick. 
Just ahead of us was a drove of two thou- 
sand steers being driven to the railroad to be 
shipped. I advise you to keep ahead of such 
drives when you take such a trip, because 
the trampling of so many feet makes a road 
almost impassable. What had been snow in 
the mountains had been rain on the desert, 
and we found the going decidedly bad. A 

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LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

rise of a hill would give us, now and then, a 
glimpse of a slow-moving, dark-colored mass 
of heaving forms, and the desert breezes 
brought to our ears the mournful lowing of 
the poor creatures. Sometimes, too, we could 
hear a snatch of the cowboys' songs. It was 
all very beautiful and I would have enjoyed 
it hugely except that my desire to be home 
far outran the wagon and I felt like a prisoner 
with clogs. 

We nooned at the cabin of Timothy Hobbs, 
but no one was at home ; he at last had gone 
" back East" for Jennie. About mid-afternoon 
the boss of the cow outfit came up on a 
splendid horse. He was a pleasant fellow and 
he made a handsome picture, with his big 
hat, his great chaps and his jangling spurs, 
as he rode along beside our wagons, talking. 

He told us that a crazy duffer had gone 
about over the desert for years digging wells, 
but at last he struck water. A few miles 
ahead was a well flowing like an artesian 
well. There would be plenty of water for 
144 



A STAMPEDE 

every one, even the cattle. Next morning we 
could start ahead of the herds and so the 
roads would be a little better. 

It was quite early when we made camp in 
the same long draw where we saw Olaf. 
There was a great change. Where had been 
dry, burning sand was now a clear little 
stream that formed shallow pools where the 
sand had blown away, so that harder soil 
could form a bottom less greedy than the 
sand. Off to our left the uneasy herd was be- 
ing held in a wide, flat valley. They were 
grazing on the dry, sparse herbage of the 
desert. Quite near the well the mess-wagon 
had stopped and the cook was already pre- 
paring supper. Beyond, a few yards away, 
a freighter's long outfit was stopped in the 
road. 

Did you ever see the kind of freight outfit 
that is used to bring the great loads across 
the desert? Then I'll tell you about the one 
we camped near. Freight wagons are not 
made precisely like others ; they are very 

145 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

much larger and stronger. Several of these 
are coupled together ; then as many teams 
as is necessary are hitched on — making a 
long, unbroken string of wagons. The horses 
are arranged in the same manner as the 
wagons. Great chains are used to pull the 
wagons, and when a camp is made the whole 
affair is stopped in the middle of the road 
and the harness is dropped right where the 
horse that bore it stood. Many freighters 
have what they call a coaster hitched to the 
last wagon. The coaster is almost like other 
wagons, but it is a home on wheels; it is 
built and furnished as sheep wagons are. 
This freighter had one, and as we drove past 
I was surprised to see the form of a woman 
and a small boy. We camped quite near 
them. 

For an hour we were very busy preparing 
supper and arranging for the night. As we 
sat at supper I thought I had never known 
so quiet and peaceful an hour. The sun hung 
like a great, red ball in the hazy west. Purple 
146 



A STAMPEDE 

shadows were already gathering. A gentle 
wind rippled past across the dun sands and 
through the gray-green sage. 

The chain parts of the hobbles and halters 
made a clinking sound as the horses fed 
about. Presently we heard a rumbling just 
like distant thunder. The cowboys sprang 
into their saddles ; we heard a shot, and then 
we knew the terrible truth, — the steers had 
stampeded. For me, the next few minutes 
were an eternity of frightful confusion. Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy and I found ourselves with 
the children upon our largest wagon ; that 
was absolutely all the protection to be had. 
It would have gone down like a house of 
cards if that heaving sea of destruction had 
turned our way. I was scared witless. Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy knelt among the children 
praying with white lips. I stood up watching 
the terrible scene. The men hastily set the 
horses free. There was no time to mount 
them and ride to safety with so many little 
children, and as there was nothing to tie them 

147 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

to but the wagons; we had to let them go so 
as to have the wagons left for shelter. This is 
why cowboys are such well-loved figures of 
romance and in mentioning them romance is 
fact. 

" Greater love hath no man than this : that 
he lay down his life for his brother." They 
knew nothing about us only that we were de- 
fenseless. They rode boldly on their stanch 
little horses flanking the frenzied steers, 
shooting a leader here and there as they got 
a chance. If an animal stumbled it went down 
to its death, for hundreds of pounding hoofs 
would trample it to pulp. So it would have 
been with the boys if their horses had stepped 
into a badger hole or anything of the kind 
had happened. So the tide was turned, or 
the steers kept of themselves, I don't know 
which, on up the valley instead of coming up 
our draw. The danger was past. 

Presently the cowboys came straggling 
back. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy ran to meet them. 
So when two on one horse came with a third 
148 



A STAMPEDE 

riding close beside, helping to hold an injured 
man on, we knew some one was hurt. Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy was, as usual, ready and able 
to help. 

But the freighter's daughter was as quick 
and had a mattress ready beside the coaster 
by the time the cowboys came up with the 
wounded man. Gently the men helped their 
comrade to the mattress and gently Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy and the girl began their 
work. I quieted the children and put them 
to bed. The men were busy rounding up the 
horses. The cowboys kept talking together 
in low tones and coming and going in twos 
and threes. They acted so queerly that I 
wondered if some one else was not hurt. I 
asked the boss if any more of his men were 
hurt. He said no, none of his men were. I 
knew none of our men or the freighter were 
harmed, so I dismissed fear and went to Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy. 

" Poor boy," she said, " he has a broken 
thigh and he's hurt inside. His belly is 
149 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

knocked into a cocked-hat. We will pull him 
through. A man has already gone back to 
Newfork to get an automobile. They will 
take him to Rock Springs to the hospital in 
the morning.' ' 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and the girl were do- 
ing all that could be done ; they sent me 
back to care for the children. To keep warm 
I crawled under the blankets, but not to 
sleep. It did n't seem to me that I could ever 
sleep again. I could hear the men talking in 
subdued tones. The boss was dispatching 
men to different places. Presently I saw some 
men take a lantern and move off toward the 
valley. I could see the light twinkling in and 
out among the sage-brush. They stopped. 
I could see forms pass before the light. I 
wondered what could be the matter. The 
horses were all safe ; even Boy, Mr. Haynes's 
dog, was safe, shivering and whining on his 
master's blankets. I could plainly hear the 
hiccoughs of the wounded man : the click- 
cluck, click-cluck, kept on with maddening 
150 



A STAMPEDE 

persistence, but at last his nurses forced 
enough hot water down him to cause vomit- 
ing. The blood-clots came and the poor fel- 
low fell asleep. A lantern was hung upon 
the wagon and the two women went into the 
coaster to make some coffee. 

It was three o'clock in the morning when 
the men of our outfit came back. They put 
on their heavy coats and were seeing to their 
horses. I asked Clyde what was the matter. 

" Hush," he said ; " lie still. It is Olaf." 

" But I want to help," I said. 

" You can't help. It 's — all over," he replied 
as he started again to where the lantern 
was gleaming like a star fallen among the 
sage. 

I tucked the children in a little more snugly, 
then went over to the coaster. 

"Won't you come to bed and rest?" I 
asked Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. 

II No, I '11 not. Are me children covered 
and warm ? " 

" Yes," I answered. 

151 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

" What are them fellys pow-wowing about 
down in the sage ? " 

" Olaf is dead," I said. 

" Who says God is not merciful ? Now all 
the poor felly's troubles are done with. 'T was 
him that caused the stampede, mayhap. God 
send him peace. I am glad. He will never 
be hungry nor cold any more." 

" Yes," said the girl ; speaking slowly. " I 
am glad, too. He almost lived in this draw. 
We saw him every trip and he did suffer. 
Dad left a little for him to eat and whatever 
he could to wear every trip. The sheep- 
herders helped him, too. But he suffered. 
All the home he had was an old, thrown- 
away sheep wagon down beyond the last 
ridge toward the valley. I 've seen him every 
two weeks for ten years. It 's a wonder he 
has not been killed before." 

" I wonder," said Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, " if 
he has any family. Where will they bury 
him?" 

" He has no people. If they will listen to 
152 



A STAMPEDE 

Dad, they will lay him here on the desert. 
He would want it so." 

After breakfast Mrs. O'Shaughnessy lay 
down for a little rest. When the wounded 
man awoke the girl gave him a little coffee. 

" You 're awful good to me," he said. " I 'd 
like to have you around all the time." 

The girl smiled gravely. " Ain't you got 
nobody to take care of you?" 

" No. What is your name ? " 

"Amy Winters. Now you must hush. 
Talkin' might make you worse." 

" I 'm not so tur'ble bad off. Where do 
you live?" 

" In the coaster, somewhere on the road 
between Pinedale and Rock Springs. Dad is 
a freighter." 

" Huh ! Do you like to live that way ? " 

" No ; I want a house and a garden awful 
bad, but Dad can't do nothin' but freight and 
we 've got Jessie to raise. We ain't got no ma." 

" Do women have to change their names 
when they marry?" 

153 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

" I don't know. Reckon they do, though. 
Why?" 

" 'Cause my name is Tod Winters. I 
know where there is a dandy little place up on 
the Gros Ventre where a cabin would look 
mighty good to me if there was some one to 
keep it for me — " 

" Oh, say," she interrupted, "that is a aw- 
ful pretty handkerchief you've got around 
your neck." 

Just then the automobile came up frighten- 
ing our horses. I heard no more, but the 
"awful pretty handkerchief" was missing 
when the hero left for the hospital. They used 
some lumber from a load the freighter had 
and walled up a grave for Olaf. They had 
no tools but axes and a shovel we had along. 
By noon Olaf was buried. Glenholdt set a 
slab of sandstone at the head. With his knife 
he had dug out these words — " Olaf. The 
friend of horses." 

We camped last night at Ten Trees. To- 
night we are at Eden Valley. The mystery 

154 



A STAMPEDE 

of Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's sudden change 
about the license is explained. She unloaded 
an elk at the Sanders cabin. " 'T was two I 
aimed to bring you, but me own family has 
increased by twins whilst I 've been gone, so 
one ilk will have to do you." 

So now, dear friend, I am a little nearer 
you. In one more week I shall be home. 
Sincerely, thankfully yours, 

E. A. S. 



XIII 



NEARING HOME 



At the Well in the Desert, 
October 21. 

Dear Friend, — 

We shall reach Green River City to-night. 
We will rest the teams one day, then start 
home. It will take us two days from Green 
River to reach home, so this is the last letter 
on the road. When we made camp here last 
night we saw some one coming on horseback 
along the canon rim 'on the opposite side. 
The form seemed familiar and the horse 
looked like one I had seen, but I dared not 
believe my eyes. Clyde, who was helping to 
draw water from the eighty-foot well without 
a pulley, thought I was bereft as I ran from 
the camp toward the advancing rider. But 
although I thought what I saw must be a mi- 
rage, still I knew Mrs. Louderer on Bismarck. 

156 



NEARING HOME 

Out of breath from my run, I grasped her 
fat ankle and panted till I could speak. 

" Haf they run you out of camp, you iss so 
bad?" she asked me by way of greeting. 
Then, more kindly, " Your boy iss all right, 
the mutter also. I am come, though, to find 
you. It iss time you are home with the kinder, 
Haf you any goose-grease left?" 

I had, all she had given me. 

At camp, joy knew no bounds. Never was 
one more welcome than our beloved neighbor. 
Her astonishment knew no bounds either, 
when her big blue eyes rested upon Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy's " twins." 

" Frau O'Shaughnessy," she said severely, 
" what have you here ? You iss robbed an 
orphan asylum. How haf you come by 
these ? " 

Mrs. O'Shaughnessy is so full of life and 
good spirits and so delighted to talk about 
her " childher " that she gave a very animated 
recital of how she became a happy mother. In 
turn Mrs. Louderer told how she grew more 

157 



LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

and more alarmed by our long absence, but 
decided not to alarm the neighbors, so she 
had " made a search party out of mineself,' , 
and had fared forth to learn our fate. 

We had a merry supper ; even Haynes be- 
came cheerful, and there was no lagging next 
morning when we started for home. When 
people go on elk hunts they are very likely 
to return in tatters, so I am going to leave it 
to your imagination to picture our appear- 
ance when we drove up to the rear of the 
hotel about sundown. Our friend Mrs. Hut- 
ton came running to meet us. I was ashamed 
to go into her house, but she leaned up 
against the house and laughed until tears 
came. "What chased you?" she gasped. 
" You must have been run through some of 
those barbed wire things that they are put- 
ting up to stop the German army." 

Mrs. Hutton is a little lady who bolsters 

up self-respect and makes light of trying 

situations, so she "shooed" us in and I 

sneaked into my room and waited until Clyde 

158 



NEARING HOME 

could run down to the store and purchase me 
a dress. I feel quite clean and respectable 
now, sitting up here in my room writing this 
to you. I will soon be at home now. Until 
then good-bye. 

E. R. S. 



XIV 

THE MEMORY-BED 

October 25. 

Dear, dear Friend,— 

Can you guess how happy I am? Be it 
ever so humble there is no place like home. 

It is so good to sit in my creaky old rocker, 
to hold Junior, to feel his dear weight ; to 
look at my brave little mother. I do not like 
the " in-law." She is mother to me. Under 
the east window of our dining-room we have 
a flower-bed. We call it our memory-bed be- 
cause Clyde's first wife had it made and kept 
pansies growing there. We poured the water 
of my little lost boy's last bath onto the mem- 
ory-bed. I keep pansies growing in one side 
of the bed in memory of her who loved them. 
In the other end I plant sweet alyssum in 
memory of my baby. A few pansies and a 
tuft of sweet alyssum smiled a welcome, 
160 



THE MEMORY-BED 

though all the rest of my flowers were dead. 
We have a hop-vine at the window and it 
has protected the flowers in the memory-bed. 
How happy I have been, looking over the 
place! Some young calves have come while 
we were gone; a whole squirming nest full of 
little pigs. My chickens have outgrown my 
knowledge. There is no snow here at all. 
Our experiences on our trip seem almost un- 
real, but the wagonload of meat to be at- 
tended to is a reminder of realities. I have 
had a fine trip ; I have experienced about all 
the human emotions. I had not expected to 
encounter so many people or to get the little 
inside glimpses that I 've had, but wherever 
there are human beings there are the little 
histories. I have come home realizing anew 
how happy I am, how much I have been 
spared, and how many of life's blessings are 
mine. Poor Mrs. Louderer, childless and 
alone, openly envying Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
her babies! In my bedroom there is a row of 
four little brown heads asleep on their pil- 
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LETTERS ON AN ELK HUNT 

lows. Four precious kiddies all my own. 
And not the least of my blessings, you to tell 
my happiness to. Has my trip interested 
you, dear friend? I hope you liked it. It will 
lose a little of its charm for me if you find it 
uninteresting. 

I will write you again soon. 

Your happy friend, 

E. R. S. 



THE END 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 



